


Trial by Fire

by dracoqueen22



Series: Sands of Fate [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Barbarian AU Trope, Canon blender, Desert AU, M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-11-15 20:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 73,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11238273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: Desperate to prove himself, an unbranded Rodimus ventures into the Barrens in search of the Deathbringer, a solitary Seeker considered a dangerous challenge for any willing to take the risk, when a sandstorm and a trio of turbowolves turn out to be all the luck Rodimus needs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheAirCommand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAirCommand/gifts).



  
Was there anything worse than sand in your gears? In your joints? In your seams?  
  
Rodimus swore that he grated as he walked. That he could hear his joints grinding and his hydraulics seizing, no matter how tightly he clamped his armor. Not even the cheap, tattered tarp that Springer had given him ages ago was enough to block it out.  
  
Ow. His ankle joints. Grind, grind, grind. They’d be ground to dust at his rate. Why had he plunged out here again? Why hadn’t anyone warned him about the oncoming dust storm? Oh, sure, it was better than an acid storm but only just.  
  
Sand or acid. Both were murder on the paint.  
  
Not that getting lost was any better. He thought he knew where he was going. But he’d lost his bearings in the storm, and his GPS was going haywire with all the electrical interference. It kept saying he was south of Protihex, and Rodimus knew that was wrong. Protihex was on the other side of the planet!  
  
He should have never come out here. He should have never let the others goad him into this. He should have never listened to their taunts. He shouldn’t have let his own insecurities blind him. He shouldn’t have…  
  
It was all Silverspire’s fault anyway.  
  
Rodimus sighed and wrapped his tarp tighter around his frame, even as the wind tugged back at it, trying to yank it away. Sand battered at his exposed armor, in a harsh raspy noise.  
  
How had it come to this?  
  
He’d been overcharged, or halfway there anyway. It had been a long day of training, of failure, sitting around a small bonfire with his agemates and fellow Firebrands. They’d been laughing, teasing one another, it was meant to be playful, Rodimus supposed.  
  
Talk turned to the upcoming graduation ceremonies, the badge offering and acceptance. Everyone knew Springer was a shoo-in for Lord Megatron’s warriors. Rodimus, sitting there, stewed in his own disappointment.  
  
He’d failed another practical that morning. There was no way they’d offer him a place in the warriors this season.  
  
Or ever, Silverspire had laughed.  
  
He should just give up, Torque had said.  
  
Anger swept in. Anger and embarrassment both, and with them came the stupidity. The boasts he could never hope to back up.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Silverspire had challenged and smirked, his hulking frame bristling with a menace Rodimus could never hope to duplicate. “Prove it.”  
  
“I will!” Rodimus had said, in overcharged confidence. Then the idea came to him. A single, stupid idea. “I’ll… I’ll defeat the Deathbringer!”  
  
Silence. A stupefied silence. For a single, blissful moment, Rodimus had thought it one of awe. That they were impressed with his bravery. Until the laughter started, loud and mocking.  
  
“How? By seducing him?” Silverspire said, with the sort of frame-shaking, outright laughter that made his optics spark and vents wheeze. “Because that’s the only thing you’ve got going for you.”  
  
“If that’s what it takes,” Rodimus had snarled, full of righteous indignation, even as Springer tugged on his arm and tried to get him to sit. Tried to make shushing noises and laugh it off.  
  
Rodimus had shaken off his hold. He’d been trembling from anger, from embarrassment. “I’ll do it,” he’d declared in front of all of them. “I’ll show you. I’ll show Lord Megatron. I’ll prove that I’m a warrior because I’ll do what no one else can. I’ll fight the Warlock and then none of you can say anything!”  
  
His determination might as well have been a joke. They’d chuckled and waved him off. Clockwork told him to sit down, that he was making a fool of himself.  
  
“Sure,” Silverspire had said, like the overconfident slagger that he was. “Fight the Deathbringer. Seduce him or whatever. If you survive that, maybe you do actually have what it takes.”  
  
“I do,” Rodimus had said, anger hot like fire in his lines, and shame the worst of it, curdling the high grade in his tanks and his processor spinning and spinning.  
  
“You’ll see,” he’d muttered as they turned the conversation to something else, namely Torque’s ongoing courtship with Dreadnought.  
  
“You’ll see,” Rodimus murmured, back in the here and now, and his engine growled. He’d set out that morning, with the determination of the foolish, not even telling Springer where he’d gone. He’d left without permission from anyone, because he’d known Kup or Sunstreaker would try and stop him.  
  
He had to do this, he’d told himself. He had to prove he was worth something, that he’d earned the warrior’s badge.  
  
And now he was lost. Lost and probably going to die in one of the worst sandstorms he’d ever seen ripping through the Barrens.  
  
This was the stupidest idea he’d ever had. And he’d had some doozies.  
  
Rodimus sighed and peered through the haze, his drop-down lens protectors keeping his optics safe, but obscuring his vision. He swore there was a large, dark shadow in front of him. Like a mountain? Shelter?  
  
Rodimus’ spark whirled with excitement. His spoiler twitched. His sensors pinged back a solid mass. Perhaps a cave even! So long as there weren’t any duryllibears, he was set!  
  
He would duck inside and hole up for the night. Start out again when the storm passed. Give up this stupid idea entirely and go back home. Sure the others would mock him, and he’d lost the available badge to Hot Spot, but it was better than dying. Right?  
  
Rodimus’ gritted his denta. His tank gurgled at him. His joints screeched agony.  
  
He’d decide in the morning. If he survived until then.  
  
The dark mass loomed in front of him. A small break in the storm gave him a clear view of the gaping opening, stalactites dripping from ceiling and making it look as though the cave had a mouth filled with fangs.  
  
Well, that wasn’t at all disconcerting.  
  
Rodimus pressed forward. He really didn’t have any other choice. His sensors swept the open space ahead of him, but he didn’t trust their feedback. Error messages cropped up every other second, and static glitched across his visual feed.  
  
He plunged into the dim shadows of the cave and gasped as the suffocating press of the sandstorm abruptly vanished. The sheer noise of it dampened, and his audials rang in the quiet. Rodimus shook his head and disengaged his lens covers, letting them slide up and out of the way. His optics cast a pale glow in the dim.  
  
He slung the tarp back, letting it drape from his shoulders as dust rained down from the numerous folds, and activated his chassis-mounted forelights. They, too, barely offered a glow. He swore it felt like the darkness had fingers.  
  
Creepy.  
  
Rodimus shivered and continued, alert for any sound or noise. There didn’t seem to be anything present, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t. He cringed as he heard his joints rattle and scrape. Maybe he’d get lucky and he’d would find an oilspring in here.  
  
The roar of the storm grew more distant the further into the tunnel he wandered. The dark became even more enclosing. His forelights swept back and forth, but there was nothing of interest on the floor, save for a few rusted remnants of something that Rodimus did not intend to investigate closely.  
  
Turborats, he told himself. Or petrorabbits. Something small, meek, and largely harmless.  
  
He came to a fork in the road. Well, three forks to be precise, each of the tunnels looking as ominous as the other. They were all dark and narrow. The one on the left had a minor air flow, but it stank of rot and rust. The air coming out of the right was stale, but he swore he heard something skittering down that way. The path straight ahead seemed to slope downward.  
  
None of it was appealing.  
  
Rodimus chewed on his bottom lip. His only other option was to turn back and plunge into the sandstorm once again.  
  
His forelights swept from one foreboding tunnel to another. Turbowolves and duryllibears didn’t skitter, right? Glitchmice did. To the right it was.  
  
Hoping he wasn’t making the wrong choice, Rodimus preemptively drew his crossbow and started down the right path. He could handle glitchmice. He could even handle ironspiders. A small turbofox perhaps.  
  
Rodimus worked his intake and continued forward. He’d give it a few hundred yards and if he didn’t find anything of use, he’d turn back. He’d camp out just within the cave opening and wait for the storm to pass.  
  
The silence enclosed him. It was eerie, to only hear the noise of his own frame, the whoosh of his vents, and the creak of his gears and the hissing of his pistons and the itching scrape of the sand in his seams. Primus, what he wouldn’t give for a nice, hot oil spring right now. Or even a dip in the Sea of Mercury, so cool and refreshing. Not that he’d ever been. It was on his dream list of places to go.  
  
He doubted he ever would. It took a special kind of warrior to get to travel to those shores. His clan would have to skirt Predaking’s land, and cross boldly into Elita’s, and only the bravest and most skilled of warriors were allowed that treacherous journey.  
  
The risks, oh but the risks, were worth it.  
  
Kup used to tell Rodimus about how smooth the sea was, how it got into your seams and your cables and oiled you better than even an oil bath. How you felt like a new mech afterward.  
  
Rodimus asked if him if that was why he never creaked despite being so old. Kup had cuffed him across the head, laughed and called him cheeky, and winked. Rodimus hadn’t failed to notice he never answered the question.  
  
Still. Sea of Never-Aging or whatever, Rodimus wanted to see it. Second-hand from decaying vidcaptures wasn’t enough. He wanted to see everything.  
  
He had to be a warrior first. He had to get through the initiation, prove himself, so he could graduate beyond Firebrand status and accept his badge.  
  
Rodimus paused as he came to another fork in the tunnels. Unease settled into his spark. Here the airflow was still, without a whiff of freshness. Rather than go deeper and get lost, maybe he should just go back? For all he knew, these caves were a maze and he could get lost forever. Without functioning GPS, no one would even be able to find his locator beacon, for they ran on the same frequencies.  
  
Definitely best to turn back before he got himself impossibly lost.  
  
Venting, Rodimus spun on a heelstrut and turned back the way he came, though his backstrut shivered at the idea of turning his back on the unknown. At least he knew the way back was relatively safe. Anything could have lurked in the shadows of those two tunnels.  
  
Something scuffed in the dark.  
  
Rodimus froze. Had that been his own footstep?  
  
He dialed up the gain on his audials. He held his bow at the ready, energon humming in a dim blue glow that lit up the tunnel a bit further than his headlights. His spark pounded in his chassis as he searched the dark.  
  
He lowered his optical lenses and switched to a different band.  
  
_Frag_.  
  
A heated shape approached him. No, scratch that. _Three_ heated shapes. Large, easily up to his hip if not more, and four-legged.  
  
Turbowolves. And here he thought Primus loved him.  
  
Rodimus swallowed thickly. He backed away slowly, his hands shaking around his bowgrip. One turbowolf he could handle with ease. Two was a struggle, one that might leave him injured by the end, but he could survive if he managed to keep them both in his sights.  
  
Three?  
  
Three was a nightmare. And three were stalking him.  
  
He’d better make this shot count.  
  
Rodimus continued to back away, though he raised his energon bow. He couldn’t see them, not with his optics alone, but he could make out the blobs that were their frames. If he could just take out one…  
  
He aimed carefully. He sucked in a deep ventilation. The energon bow buzzed with anticipation.  
  
He would have to be ready to run.  
  
_Primus, watch over me._  
  
He doubted their deity was listening. But it never hurt to try.  
  
_Here goes nothing._  
  
Rodimus stalled, confirmed his target and released. He didn’t wait around to see if it hit the mark. He immediately spun on a heelstrut and took off running down the tunnels, praying again that there was an exit or something ahead of him. These close quarters benefited the turbowolves alone.  
  
Behind him, he heard a yelp and several growls. Good. He’d hit something. He didn’t know if he’d taken it down completely or wounded it. Either way, it was a point in his favor.  
  
He wished he could transform. But in these narrow, twisting tunnels, it would be even more dangerous. He would have to rely on his own speed.  
  
The fork came up again. Rodimus didn’t think; he reacted. He veered off to the left, forelights sweeping ahead of him, revealing more of the same tunnels, until he tumbled through a thick ironspider web.  
  
Gross. He spat out webbing. Behind him, he heard the snarls of the turbowolves giving chase, their clawed feet scrabbling across the rocky ground.  
  
He readied his energon bow again. He’d have to make this fast. Rodimus braced himself, sent up another quick prayer, and then skidded to a stop, spinning at the same time. He swung his bow around as he did so, aimed quickly and released, before sprinting back into the darkness.  
  
He heard another whine. Maybe he’d gotten lucky. Maybe he’d wounded one. He counted footsteps. The quick glance had been a blur, but he thought he’d counted two, and only two. Hopefully, he had felled the first one.  
  
The energon bow was useless in close quarters. He had a knife tucked into his right thigh panel. It was a last resort.  
  
Frag, but he should have been more prepared.  
  
Rodimus’ ventilations heaved. His spark throbbed. The turbowolves were getting closer.  
  
So was that wall.  
  
“What the frag!” Rodimus cursed as he skidded to a stop, barely crashing into what was quite surely a dead end. He had nowhere else to run.  
  
Rodimus whirled around to face his doom, trembling hands grasping his energon bow, optical lenses dropping back down over his optics just in time for him to see the two bodies lunging toward him. One of them dripped energon.  
  
Rodimus yelped and fired. The arrow soared into the darkness, cutting through the remnants of an ironspider web and setting it ablaze. By sheer luck, it slammed into a turbowolf, sending the beast crashing to the ground.  
  
There was no time to celebrate. Rodimus twisted to the side, trying to avoid the lunge of the second turbowolf, and it still caught him. It barreled against his left side, tipping him off balance, and Rodimus tumbled to the ground. He grunted, his energon bow fizzling out, and scrambled for his knife.  
  
The turbowolf snarled. Something wet and oozing dripped onto his armor. Strong talons clawed at him, and Rodimus howled as they bit deep, through armor to cables and lines beneath. He flailed, lashing out with the small knife, his spoiler halves chiming agony at him. One was bent. He’d bent one.  
  
The turbowolf’s pointed denta snapped inches from his nose. Rodimus shouted and beat at it again, knife plunging, tip skittering across the pleated folds of the turbowolf’s armored body. He beat on the turbowolf with his fist, trying to roll the beast off him.  
  
Claws raked at his abdomen, leaving streaks of blazing fire behind. Fangs lunged at his intake. Rodimus rolled sharply to the left, his free hand slamming against the turbowolf’s throat, shoving back. He stabbed up and at an angle, directly into the turbowolf’s midsection.  
  
The tip of his blade caught on something and then bit deep. Hot fluids splashed down on his hand. The turbowolf snarled and lunged, his denta closing down on Rodimus’ shoulder. It was Rodimus’ turn to howl as he stabbed, again and again, thrashing to try and get the turbowolf off him. The weight bore down on him, pinning him and energon flowed freely from his numerous wounds.  
  
More fluids gushed out over his fingers. It took him far too long to realize that the turbowolf was still, that its fangs had loosened their death grip on his shoulder. Rodimus vented heavily, his spark throbbing and his processor spinning.  
  
It… was dead?  
  
Rodimus panted. The knife remained shoved deep, hot fluid staining his fingers. The wolf’s respirations no longer beat down on his face, stinking of whatever it had last consumed. It didn’t matter what it was; Rodimus called it death.  
  
Rodimus’ own fans roared. All the rest was silence. He’d survived. He’d lived. He… was getting crushed under the weight of this damn beast. Energon pooled beneath his frame, his processor spinning faster and faster, until gray spots danced in his optical feed.  
  
That wasn’t good.  
  
Rodimus thrashed beneath the turbowolf and howled when claws dug deeper into his internals, locked as they were around something important. Pain lanced through his frame, sending jagged bursts of light through his optical feed.  
  
“Get off me!” Rodimus growled, shoving both palms at the turbowolf’s chest and giving it a heave.  
  
With a sickening splat and crunch, it pulled free, most of its weight tumbling off of Rodimus, but it tore something free in the process. Something that bled energon and another fluid. Something he probably needed.  
  
Rodimus touched his abdomen with trembling fingers, unable to guess the color with the flickering of his forelights. His world spun and spun. Darkness reached for him with icy fingers, tugging at his consciousness. He tried to flop over, away from the turbowolf corpse. He tried to claw his way free.  
  
He needed to get up. He needed to try and bandage himself. He had to get home. Springer would be worried. They wouldn’t know where to look for him. They wouldn’t--  
  
Energy abandoned him.  
  
Rodimus’ entire frame shook. Darkness encroached his vision.  
  
His lips cracked in a sardonic grin. Three turbowolf kills and not a damn person would ever know about it.  
  
What rotten luck.  


 

~

  
  
The proximity alarms startled Starscream out of a complicated equation. He cursed as his wings went rigid, and the numbers fell apart in his processor, leaving them a jumble on the holographic board in front of him.  
  
Slag it all to the Pit. And he was so certain he was on the right train of thought. Starscream glared at the board, but he’d lost track now. He couldn’t remember where he was going, or where he’d come from, and that fragging alarm wasn’t helping.  
  
Starscream muttered another invective and slammed his stylus into the holding cup. He whirled toward his console, slamming a palm onto the activation switch. The alarm cut off with a shrill hiss as his monitor powered up, giving him a staticky view of his back door.  
  
It was probably the damn turbowolves again, fighting for territory. They were quite effective at keeping out nosy wanderers, but irritating at times like these.  
  
Starscream snarled as he peered at the screen, swatting the monitor to make the fuzzy image clarify into a monochrome view of his back door. That… was not a turbowolf.  
  
It was a mech, though Starscream did not know to which clan he belonged. He certainly wasn’t a cityling, not with the tattered tarp and the powered down crossbow lying next to him.  
  
What in Primus’ name was a clanling doing on Starscream’s backstep? Usually they traipsed up to the front door, belligerently demanding entrance, convinced they had nothing to fear and everything to gain.  
  
Starscream ground his denta. He should just leave the brat out there, but then he’d have to clean up the mess later, and with Starscream’s luck, someone would come looking for him. Perhaps his whole clan even and then Starscream would have far more visitors than he ever wanted. Armed visitors, more likely, convinced their resident monster had eaten their precious heir or such slag.  
  
He couldn’t just leave the brat to rot.  
  
Starscream sighed a ventilation and snagged the closest weapon he had on hand – a sonic blaster. Just in case the turbowolves were guarding their prey, if the brat hadn’t killed them.  
  
He rode the lift down to the lowest level, irritation building to a steady froth within him. There was a reason he chose to live out in the middle of the wilderness alone, and it wasn’t just because he didn’t like others. It was also because he didn’t want to be disturbed in the middle of highly important calculations! And yet, it never failed.  
  
Starscream stalked down the narrow corridor to the back exit and manually unlocked the door, disengaging the holographic projector at the same time. The little lost clanling would have only seen a rocky dead end, rather than the metal door Starscream had wedged there. Why was he even venturing into that dark mountain in the first place? What was he looking for?  
  
Both questions Starscream would demand answers for as soon as he got the opportunity.  
  
The door clicked, and Starscream yanked it open, pointing his sonic blaster into the gloom first. Nothing with teeth or fangs leapt at him, and a quick scan of the tunnel pinged back negative. Nothing but the lost clanling and two turbowolf corpses.  
  
Two, hmm?  
  
The little lost clanling was something of a warrior, wasn’t he? Or maybe he was just lucky.  
  
Starscream tucked away his sonic cannon and knelt down next to the clanling. He was brightly colored, or at least Starscream assumed so beneath the energon streaks, sand-dust, and paint scrapes. The tattered scrap of fabric twisted around his shoulders was nothing special either.  
  
Starscream pressed a hand to the clanling’s chestplate and felt the strong pulse of a spark beneath. He still lived, though he would need some medical care. Because of course. Once more, Starscream’s solitude would be broken.  
  
He cast a glance over his shoulder at the turbowolf corpses. He would return for those, he supposed. There was no need to waste such good materials. For now, however, he would focus on taking this clanling indoors and make sure he didn’t offline.  
  
His calculations would just have to wait.  


 

~

  
  
Rodimus came online with a gasping ventilation, his frame jerking. There was a light, a bright one, glaring down at him, and he was warm. Why was he warm? The last thing he remembered was the turbowolves lunging for him, and frantically stabbing out with his blade.  
  
“Easy.”  
  
“Bright!” Rodimus gasped out, slinging an arm over his face as he curled away from the light, feeling as though something had punched him in the chassis. His spark throbbed angrily, his cables feeling strung taut.  
  
The glare faded to a dull glow. Rodimus’ spark hammered in his chassis, and he slowly lowered his hand, shadows dancing in his visual feed. He couldn’t see anything but dark shapes and something moving in his periphery. Something like another mech.  
  
“Who are you? Where am I? What’s going on?” Rodimus groped for his crossbow, but it was no longer attached at his side. “Where’s my bow!?”  
  
“Easy,” the mech murmured, his vocals soft and soothing, and with a hint of a weird accent that Rodimus couldn’t quite identify. “You are in my spare room. You are safe. I’ve disarmed you for my own safety.”  
  
Rodimus swung his gaze back toward the mech. “Who?”  
  
“That is a question I want you to answer first,” the mech said as he reached for Rodimus’ arm, encircling his wrist with long, talon-tipped fingers. “What are you doing in my territory, Firebrand clanling?”  
  
“Your territory?” Rodimus echoed. He rebooted his optics, and hissed with relief when his vision clarified into a…  
  
Seeker. What the frag was a Seeker doing out here? And such a pretty one, too. Rodimus’ face flushed with heat as crimson optics examined him curiously. The Seeker was predominantly gray with bits of red and blue arranged throughout his frame and something in his appearance was familiar.  
  
Wait. The Warlock of the Wastes. The Deathbringer. The Mad One.  
  
He was a Seeker. And there was a Seeker currently gripping his wrist, his free hand reaching for Rodimus. Reaching with a datacable as though he intended to plug right into Rodimus’ wristport.  
  
And he was a Seeker.  
  
“Stop! What are you doing!” Rodimus jerked his hand free and twisted away from the stranger. “Don’t steal my data!”  
  
The Seeker blinked and gave him a confused look. “I’m not stealing your data, you idiot. This is your medical port, not a ‘facing port.”  
  
“So?”  
  
The Seeker rolled his optics and leaned back, rubbing his fingertips over his forehead. “Primus save me from Firebrands.” He peered at Rodimus under the hood of his hand. “Let’s try this again. Who are you and why are you here?”  
  
Rodimus dragged himself back on his elbows and winced when his head hit a wall. He pulled up his feet, putting his knees between himself and the Seeker. His whole frame ached, his shoulder and abdomen the worst of it, and he could smell the stench of spilled energon and weldfire.  
  
“I know who you are,” he said, and he hated that his voice wavered. How could he be a warrior and still be this much of a coward? “You’re the Warlock. The Deathbringer. The--”  
  
“The Mad One. The Flighted. Yes, yes. I’ve heard it all before.” The Seeker waved a dismissing hand. “Or you could also use my designation, which is Starscream. Frankly, I’m rather fond of that.” He crossed his arms over his cockpit. “Now, answer my questions, bratling.”  
  
Starscream.  
  
Rodimus shaped the name with his mouth. It was a nice name. He wondered what the Seeker had done to earn it.  
  
“Well?” Starscream prompted, baring his pointed denta in a snarl.  
  
Rodimus swallowed thickly. “H-Hot Rod,” he said. It was only a small lie. Honestly, he didn’t even know why he’d give his original designation. “And, uh, I got lost. There was a sandstorm. So I took shelter.”  
  
Starscream stared at him. “I don’t believe you.”  
  
“I’m not lying!”  
  
The Seeker held up a hand as though it would hold off Rodimus’ indignation. “Oh, I believe you got lost. And I believe in the sandstorm.” The hand twisted at the wrist and gestured to the left.  
  
Rodimus followed the gesture with his optics, toward a tall, narrow window through which he could see nothing but swirls upon swirls of sand. So. The storm continued to rage. And judging by his chronometer, he’d been out for half a solar cycle.  
  
If he’d stayed out there, he would have perished.  
  
“What I don’t believe is that you stumbling around this general area is a coincidence,” Starscream finished, dragging Rodimus’ attention back toward him. He’d crossed his arms back over his chassis. “Do you think me unaware of the rumors that persist in your clan? Of the challenge the Firebrands have laid for one another?”  
  
Rodimus felt his faceplate flush before he could school his expression into something that didn’t immediately give him away.  
  
Starscream chuffed a vent at him. “That’s what I thought.” His field roiled out then, tapping against Rodimus’ with offense and disgust. “For the record, I will not be entertaining your delusions of bravery and honor and I’m not going to satisfy your need to prove yourself. Understood?”  
  
Rodimus jerked his head into a nod.  
  
“Good.” Starscream’s mouth curved downward into a deeper frown. “I won’t toss you into the sandstorm, though Primus knows I have the right, but as soon as it’s gone, so will you be. Am I clear?”  
  
“Yes.” Rodimus chanced a look around, taking in the small room, mostly empty of equipment, though the walls were plastered with posters full of science gobbledygook. He dragged his gaze back to Starscream. “Oh, uh, thanks. For, you know...” He made a vague gesture. “Not leaving me to die.” He tried his most charming grin.  
  
It did not work.  
  
Starscream huffed another ventilation. “Don’t make me regret this,” he said, jabbing a pointed forefinger toward Rodimus. “And if you attack me, or touch me, or make even so much as a threatening gesture in my direction, you’ll learn how I earned the title Deathbringer.”  
  
Rodimus absolutely did not squeak. But he did nod his understanding, his spark hammering within his chassis. This little slip of a Seeker – okay, not so little, he was of a height with Rodimus at least – should not be so frightening. There was a menace in Starscream’s expression, however, that couldn’t be discounted.  
  
“Then we understand each other.” Starscream dropped his arms and spun on a heelstrut, stalking toward the door. It opened with a press of his palm, rattling aside to clear the path.  
  
“Wait!” Rodimus unfurled from his protective huddle against the wall and swung his legs over the side of the berth. “Don’t lock me in here.”  
  
Starscream cycled his optics. “You’re not a prisoner,” he said with a snort. “You can go anywhere in the complex that allows you access.” He rapped his fingers on the doorframe, taloned tips making a sharp staccato. “By my calculations, the storm will rage for another seven solar cycles. Do try to stay out of my way until you can be on yours.”  
  
With that, Starscream swept out of the door, and it clattered shut behind him, leaving Rodimus in the humming silence of the small room. Which was apparently to be his own for the next week.  
  
Rodimus cycled a ventilation and hopped to his feet, gingerly stretching his arms over his head. He gave a cursory glance down at himself. He was still dinged and scratched, and he could feel the gritty grains in his joints. His abdomen ached, however, and movement would be a trial. But the slashmarks had been cleaned and covered by static bandages, and his energon levels were steady. He touched his shoulder, felt the gouges of fangs in his armor, but the holes been patched with a colorless putty filler.  
  
His energon bow was still gone, no surprise there, but his pack sat on a nearby table with his tarp folded next to it. It looked more than worse for wear and was probably better suited for the scrap-heap at this point, but maybe it could be salvaged. He would have to work on it later. If his kit hadn’t been lost.  
  
Rodimus let it be for now.  
  
He moved to the window, trying to peer out into the storm. His internal compass was still spinning dizzily, but if he was truly in the Warlock’s tower, then he had an idea of where he was. Home would be a day’s drive south, or three day’s walk depending. He must have spent most of the week wandering around in a circle.  
  
Primus, but this was one story he did not want to tell. He was supposed to be challenging the Warlock, not getting rescued by him. He’d never earn his badge at this rate. He should have known better than to take a short-cut.  
  
It was probably just one of those stories anyway. One of those bold challenges that no one expected anyone to try for, and Rodimus was the idiot who boasted he could do it.  
  
There’d be no challenging Starscream now. The Warlock had made that quite clear. And seducing him? Pah. Rodimus was more likely to have his spike ripped off and ground to bits than succeeding in that avenue.  
  
Rodimus vented and leaned against the window ledge, one hand curled around his midsection, where heat gathered and throbbed around the bandaged wound. His frame temperature was higher than usual, but he suspected that was because his repair nanites were working over time. He didn’t feel overheated otherwise.  
  
Outside, the storm raged. Dust swirled and spattered at the window, raining bits of rust and sand against the transteel. He’d be dead if he’d been caught in that. His collapsible tent would have been a poor shelter. He should have checked with Soundwave before setting out, but he hadn’t wanted anyone to know what he was doing.  
  
He hadn’t wanted someone to stop him.  
  
It all sounded so stupid now.  
  
Seek out and defeat the famed Deathbringer. Or, as Silverspire suggested, seduce him even? Anything that meant Rodimus could return with victory in the face of overwhelming odds.  
  
Rodimus snorted. He never should have let those idiots goad him. Now who was the idiot?  
  
He was.  
  
Rodimus sighed and turned away from the window. It was going to be a long week, but no way could he spend it cooped up in this room. He wasn’t stupid enough to attack Starscream. But maybe he was just stupid enough to see if he could charm the Seeker. Surely Starscream was lonely out here? Right?  
  
Maybe. Rodimus wasn’t sure yet. But he sure as frag wasn’t going to cloister himself in this room.  
  
He wanted to earn his badge. He wouldn’t by hiding away from the so-called Deathbringer. If he was lucky, maybe he could bring back a souvenir? Something to brag about? It was worth a shot.  
  
Rodimus shrugged and then hissed at himself in chastisement. His shoulder ached, the pain dull and ignored until now. Compared to his abdomen, it was a mere scratch. But he could still feel where the turbowolf’s fangs had sunk in deep. Thank Primus it hadn’t been a rustviper. He doubted he could have lived through that venom.  
  
He should probably just go back to recharge. But he wanted to know his way around first. What if there was an emergency and he needed to escape? He couldn’t relax without knowing if there was something to be worried about.  
  
With that in mind, Rodimus moved toward the doorway, albeit at a slower pace than his usual stride. He half-expected the door to deny him, but it slid open as he approached, triggered by a motion detector no doubt.  
  
Starscream hadn’t lied.  
  
That was a good sign.  
  
Rodimus cycled a ventilation. He braced himself. And then he ventured out into the Seeker’s lair.  


 

~

  
  
The Firebrand wasted no time in strolling out of the small side room and poking his nasal ridge all around Starscream’s laboratory. Though he was at least hesitant about it. He kept his hands to himself, didn’t try to hack locks on doors that didn’t admit him, and didn’t set about destroying anything either.  
  
Starscream tracked Hot Rod as a matter of course. He had his security system attuned to the clanling, if only to ensure nothing happened to the mech. And all the better to make certain he wasn’t surprised.  
  
It had nothing to do with admiring the Firebrand’s sleek frame, his bright colors, and the charming way he looked at Starscream with wide, startled optics.  
  
Starscream snorted and bent back over his project. He’d set aside his calculations for now. He couldn’t concentrate on them with a Firebrand loitering about his laboratory, even if said Firebrand had just discovered Starscream’s private oilbath.  
  
Good. The brat could get cleaned up and stop dripping grit all over Starscream’s floors.  
  
A week, Starscream fumed, and that was if his calculations were correct, which of course they were. What a terrible time for a sandstorm, for temptation.  
  
Hot Rod was not the first Firebrand to wander into Starscream’s territory, but he was the first who’d been allowed further than the front gate, who hadn’t been driven away with scorchmarks, dents, and dings.  
  
Starscream never understood these clans, who concocted wild stories and made them legends. He used it to his advantage of course, allowing their fear of him to prevent unwelcome visitors.  
  
Save for the brave few who thought they could earn their badges by taming the Mad One, either in the berth or on the field of combat. Though of course they usually opted for the former rather than the latter.  
  
Some things were universal, Starscream supposed. And the desire to berth a Seeker, code-stealer or not, was one of them.  
  
He sighed and scrubbed at his forehead. He was not focusing on this project or any other right now. Not while a clanling roamed his tower. The risk of getting interrupted was too great. That and intermittent bouts of irritation mixed with longing did not make for good concentration.  
  
Hot Rod was attractive in his own right.  
  
Pity he had arrived here already intent on using Starscream for his own ends. My, how that sounded familiar.  
  
Starscream pushed to his feet and spun away from his desk, only for a wave of dizziness to assault him. He grasped for the edge of the desk to keep his balance, while he paused and ventilated, waiting for the vertigo to pass. Yellow caution warnings streamed through his central cortex, his fans stuttering before they spun, to cool his frame from a rapid increase in temperature he’d somehow missed.  
  
That… was not good.  
  
Dizziness abated, Starscream slowly turned back toward his desk and bent to grope around in a side drawer. There was a code-scanner in here, he knew. He kept them stashed all about the complex. As a Seeker, it had become something of a necessity, especially for a Seeker who chose to live on his own.  
  
He fumbled the handle of a scanner, and Starscream pulled it out with nothing short of alarm. He jammed the scanner into his dataport and peered down at the display, praying to a deity he no longer trusted that it would give him an optimistic answer.  
  
_Coding degradation at eighty percent._  
  
He ground his denta so hard he tasted sparks. Primus bedamned. He didn’t know whether he should consider the Firebrand’s arrival fortuitous or a curse. He did not want to give the little brat what he’d came here for.  
  
But eighty percent.  
  
He might not have a choice in the matter. It had been half a stellar cycle since he’d last visited Blurr, and his coding reflected that. He could have made it several lunar cycles more, long enough for Deadlock’s annual visit, if he hadn’t been so hasty in testing the synthetic uploads.  
  
Damn him for his impatience. For being so desperate for a solution that he’d now landed himself in this predicament.  
  
Starscream yanked the scanner out and slammed it to the tabletop. He heaved a ventilation and pretended his fingers weren’t trembling.  
  
Eighty percent. He would last the week for certain. He would last well into next week. He would not last until Deadlock returned, unless the roaming speedster decided, for once, to appear early. Starscream could not take that risk, and he could not contact Deadlock either. He would make the attempt, but he had little belief it would succeed.  
  
Deadlock roamed for a reason.  
  
Starscream pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. He dimmed his optics, cycling several unsteady ventilations.  
  
He could attempt the journey back to the cities and make contact with Blurr once more. But with his luck, he’d arrive in Iacon, only to find his former lover at a race in another citystate, too far for Starscream to travel safely. He could take a risk and seek out Skyfire, but that would mean crossing over Elita’s territory and frankly, Starscream was not up to that challenge right now.  
  
The next synthetic prototype was not ready for testing. He no longer had the time to dally on it. He needed to devote every moment of free time to working on it.  
  
For if it failed again, he would have no choice but to seek out Hot Rod’s company, and that was something Starscream was reluctant to do for obvious reasons.  
  
Damn it all.  


 

****


	2. Chapter 2

They spent most of the first day ignoring each other, which suited Starscream absolutely fine. He had work to do. Piles of work to do. Which included trying to find his place in those mangled calculations. So long as Hot Rod didn’t poke his nose somewhere it didn’t belong, Starscream was content to ignore him.  
  
He kept one optic on the monitors, watching the Firebrand for misbehavior. The rest of his attention was devoted to his work.  
  
Hot Rod seemed content to explore the first day, tentatively poking his nasal ridge into all of the nooks and crannies of Starscream’s tower. He tested doors to see which ones opened and which ones wouldn’t, and popped his head inside to identify the rooms. He didn’t linger much in them before he moved on.  
  
Slowly, however. The Firebrand was still healing and had to be tender. Starscream was a passable field medic at best. He’d learned a lot from Wrench, but he’d never qualify as a real medic. He’d repaired Hot Rod to the best of his ability, but what was left required Hot Rod’s own nanites to complete. He suspected the Firebrand would tire long before the day was through, and would retreat to his room and berth.  
  
Hot Rod found the energon storage room of his own accord, and Starscream expected him to be greedy. But, no. He only rummaged up a cube of mid-grade for himself before he continued exploring, touching everything.  
  
Mech couldn’t keep his hands to himself for anything. He traced the filigree on the walls. He dragged his fingertips on the bannister railings. He poked at indicator lights and scuffed his feet over the emergency strips in the flooring. He rode the lift up and down, for no discernible reason since he didn’t get off on any of the levels, as though he was fascinated by the mere novelty of it.  
  
He’d found Starscream’s private oil bath almost immediately, as if he’d had some kind of homing beacon in his frame for discovering personal comforts. He invited himself to use it, too, which would have irritated Starscream, were it not for the fact the Firebrand was filthy and tracking filth throughout Starscream’s tower. One of the drones had taken to following him, beeping as it gobbled up every speck of dirt.  
  
Granted, his home wasn’t the tidiest of places, but at least it was clean. Starscream might have stacks and piles of things in corners and on tables, but nothing was dirty. He prided himself on that. He had an armada of cleaning drones to do all the fiddly work.  
  
Hot Rod dozed in the oil bath, and Starscream relaxed. Self-repair would keep the mech out for at least an hour, if not more. He could take the time to focus on his project.  
  
So he did.  
  
Agitation set his wings to flickering, however. He wasn’t used to having his solitude disturbed. Yes, he had his visitors, but they were no longer strangers to him. They were friends most welcome. Mechs who Starscream trusted.  
  
Hot Rod was neither of those two.  
  
He resolved himself to a week spent on high alert, watching the Firebrand for the slightest hint of danger. He hoped he could focus through it. He broadcast a message for Deadlock just in case, in a thin hope that his friend would be by sooner than later.  
  
He had work to do. He couldn’t let himself be distracted.  
  
Starscream bent back over his desk.  
  
One optic slid toward the monitor. Hot Rod still dozed.  
  
Starscream was safe.  
  
For now.  
  


~

  
  
Rodimus onlined the next day feeling a thousand times better than the day before. He’d recharged long enough for his self-repair to work diligently, and that combined with the oil bath left him feeling languid and nearly pain free. Nearly being the key word here.  
  
He rolled around on the berth, stretching his arms over his head, his joints moving with ease and his cables feeling like new. Damn. Why couldn’t they have warm oil baths at the settlement? This was positively heaven.  
  
He lay there for several minutes more, gearing himself up for the day. The berth was absurdly comfortable, and while the tower carried a slight chill, the cover was thick and retained heat, and honestly, Rodimus could easily lay here for the rest of the day, dozing. He couldn’t remember a time he felt so unhurried.  
  
He was tempted to do so. But he remembered all the interesting places he’d discovered the day before. Exploration waited for no mech, especially not lazy ones who stayed aberth all day. So Rodimus reluctantly untangled himself from the hedonistically comfortable berth and departed the small room.  
  
Besides, his tanks were pinging him for fuel anyway.  
  
The tower was silent as he stepped out and hung a left, following the curve of the downward slope toward the fueling station. Well, silent except for the roar and rattle of the storm raging outside. He could look up and see it, the swirls of sand and wind. Starscream had a skylight for a roof, though it had to be made of some pretty thick transsteel to stand up to that storm.  
  
Rodimus thought it might open, too. There seemed to be some kind of sliding mechanism, not that he could really see it from down here. Though he supposed it made sense. Starscream could fly. Why wouldn’t he want to have an open roof in good weather? Though wouldn’t that make it hot in here?  
  
Whatever.  
  
The quietest whirr and hum announced his tiny shadow. Rodimus looked over his shoulder to see the small cleaning drone scuttling after him, which was a little insulting. He’d bathed yesterday and everything! He wasn’t dripping dirt anymore. But the thing stayed on his heels, narrowly missing bumping him. It stopped when he stopped. It moved when he moved.  
  
Had Starscream programmed it to follow him? Was he being tracked? Rodimus supposed he couldn’t blame Starscream for being cautious, but still. A cleaning drone?  
  
He vented. He’d let it be. The cleaning drone wasn’t causing any harm and besides, Starscream seemed to have an armada of the things. When he paid attention, he could see half a dozen scurrying about, quietly humming as they scooted across the floors or the walls and there was even one slowly creeping over the skylight, polishing the transsteel.  
  
Creepy.  
  
Rodimus poked his nose into the fueling station and found it deserted. No sign of Starscream. He hadn’t seen the Seeker yesterday either, not after being told to behave and mind himself like some kind of youngling. He supposed Starscream really did like to be alone.  
  
He drew himself a cube of mid-grade and sipped on it, still finding the flavor a bit odd. Energon refined from actual crystals was a rarity in his clan. It wasn’t as if they grew in great abundance around their settlement, plus it was a volatile process. Rodimus liked the flavor of the fresh energon. It actually tasted like something.  
  
This would do. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.  
  
Rodimus shrugged and left the fueling station, his drone shadow at his heels. Maybe he should name it?  
  
He looked over his shoulder and stopped. It stopped, too. Rodimus laughed to himself. “I think I’m going to call you Scuttle,” he murmured. “Since you’re my shadow now.”  
  
The drone beeped at him, a cheerful trio of tones, as if it had understood him.  
  
“You like that?”  
  
Another beep.  
  
Well then.  
  
“Scuttle it is,” Rodimus said with a chuckle, before he shook his head. Talking to a cleaning drone. Was he so lonely so quick?  
  
Rodimus debated how to occupy himself as he mentally reviewed every room he’d discovered the day before. Fatigue hovered in his circuits, and the dull throb in his abdomen suggested he take it easy.  
  
He’d found a library, hadn’t he? Maybe there was some worthwhile reading in there. Or maybe Starscream had some of those fun little mind-games loaded onto a datapad. Rodimus liked those, though the chances he had to play them were very rare.  
  
If he remembered correctly, said library was a few levels down. It hadn’t even had a door, just an open entryway. Should be easy enough to find.  
  
Sipping on his energon, Rodimus set off again, with only a small hitch in his ventilations. His belly still felt sore. Tender. He definitely needed to take it easy.  
  
The silence of the tower wrapped around him. It made his footsteps sound absurdly loud. Scuttle was a bare brush of movement behind him. He still hadn’t seen wing-hinge or thruster of Starscream, and maybe that was for the best. He couldn’t irritate someone he didn’t see, right?  
  
Right.  
  
Rodimus found the library with ease. See? His sense of direction didn’t suck. Getting lost was a fluke. A twist of fate.  
  
An act of Primus?  
  
All better options.  
  
Rodimus moved through the doorless entry and set off to exploring the haphazardly arranged shelves. Scuttle whirred and followed him, only to veer off at the last second, chirping happily as it bumped into another cleaning drone. They chittered at one another.  
  
“Abandoned for a pretty face,” Rodimus said with a theatrical vent. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” He moved deeper into the library.  
  
It looked a lot like Starscream dragged a bookcase in here whenever one filled up, and didn’t think twice about the fact he might need another one later. It was all so… chaotic.  
  
Did he have an organizational system? Not one that Rodimus could find. Most of the titles made his head hurt. The ones he could read anyway. The rest were scribbles and garbles, languages he couldn’t recognize, some he did but still couldn’t read.  
  
Then he lucked out. Piled on a small rolling cart in the back was a stack of datanovels in plain Standard with easy to read titles. Fantasies. Romances, if he were being honest with himself. The kind of slag he wasn’t supposed to read, but had tucked under his berth back at the settlement. Guilty pleasures, they were.  
  
And there wasn’t anyone here to tease him for reading them.  
  
Rodimus grinned, grabbed the first one off the stack, and wandered back toward the front where he’d spotted a comfy looking chair earlier and a small table nearby. Perfect for reading, in his opinion. He flopped into it, set his energon on the table, and made himself comfortable. Nearby, Scuttle and his friend chased each other around the floor. Cute.  
  
He was nearly to the climax of the story – pun intended, actually, since it happened to be one of those erotic thrillers – when awareness prickled over his proximity sensors. Rodimus dragged his attention from the novel and looked up to see Starscream striding into the library as if he owned the place. Which, technically, he did.  
  
Rodimus blinked.  
  
Starscream drew up short and stared at him, wings angled high and back. His armor clamped down tightly. He looked at Rodimus, the datapad in his hands, and then back at Rodimus again. He frowned.  
  
“I didn’t know you could read,” Starscream commented in a pointed tone that made Rodimus’ hackles rise.  
  
He scowled and tightened his hold on the datapad. “Of course I can.” He rolled his optics. “I might not be able to read Vosian or Tarnian or whatever else scrap those are written in, but I damn sure know Cybertronian Standard.” His spoiler flicked. His mood soured.  
  
How rude. Couldn’t Starscream have managed a pleasant ‘good afternoon’ before diving into the insults?  
  
Starscream arched an orbital ridge. “And here I thought you clanlings were ill-mannered and ill-informed. It seems I was only half-right.” Derision radiated in every spoken glyph.  
  
Rodimus huffed. “You’re the one who insulted me first,” he bit out, and resisted the urge to leap up from his chair. Attacking Starscream would be an overreaction, and pointless for that. “Who walks into a room and greets someone with an insult anyway?”  
  
“This is my home. You’re an unwanted guest. Just how polite do you expect me to be?” Starscream retorted. He spun on a heelstrut and moved to one of his shelves, showing Rodimus his back. “And it’s not Tarnian. It’s pre-Golden Age Primal Vernicular. A dead language, by the way, not that you’d know.”  
  
Rodimus rolled his optics. “It’s gobbledygook. Just like all the science… stuff.” He waved a hand toward the relative entirety of the library. He’d never been much for science in his studies. Stuff just didn’t make sense. “I’m lucky I found anything interesting at all.”  
  
Starscream half-turned and pinned him with an insulted look. “Everything here is fascinating.”  
  
Rodimus snorted. “Maybe to you. But I don’t spend my life hiding away in this tower.” He flicked his spoiler halves. “Besides, I’ll bet you haven’t even read everything here.”  
  
Starscream blindly grabbed three datapads off the shelves and stacked them into his arms before he gave Rodimus his full attention. “Of course I have. Why would I own books I haven’t read or didn’t intend to?”  
  
“You tell me.”  
  
Starscream stared at him. His optics narrowed. His wing flaps twitched back and forth, which was kind of interesting. And then Starscream tilted his head, gaze dropping to the datapad in Rodimus’ possession.  
  
“Is that Lightscreen’s ‘Once Upon a Time’?”  
  
Heat stole into Rodimus’ cheeks. He slapped a hand over the screen, not that it mattered at this point. “It was one of the only non-science things I could find,” he muttered and curled his legs up into the chair. “Besides, you’re the one who owns it!”  
  
“Yes. For when I need something that requires little processor power to entertain me,” Starscream said, amusement thick in his vocals. His optics all but shone. “But please, read all you like. I encourage education for someone like yourself.”  
  
“Like ‘myself’?” Rodimus sat up straighter, fixing Starscream with a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Oh, he knew exactly what it meant. He just wanted to hear Starscream say it.  
  
The Seeker sniffed. “Take it as you will.” He tucked his datapads under his arm. “Spend as much time in the library as you wish. Just don’t break anything.”  
  
“I’m not that clumsy!”  
  
“So you say.” Starscream held himself up straight and stalked toward the door, his field screaming his irritation at having been disturbed. “Enjoy your book.”  
  
Rodimus ground his denta on the bitter retort and glared at Starscream’s back as the Seeker left the room, the cleaning drones briefly swirling around his feet before scattering back into the library.  
  
Rodimus huffed a ventilation, his engine growling. No wonder Starscream lived out here alone. He was a jerk.  
  
Rodimus frowned and turned his attention back to the novel, which really was a good story. He would have to look into getting a copy for himself.  
  
Starscream was an aft and rude besides, but at least he had good taste in fantasies.  
  


~

  
  
Starscream returned to his lab, setting his retrieved datapads aside. He actually hadn’t needed them. He only wanted to make a point. He’d re-shelve them later, when he needed a break, and hopefully, long after Hot Rod retreated from the library.  
  
Starscream dropped back onto the stool behind his main workstation and performed a long, languid stretch. He supposed he could have gone on for a week, ignoring the Firebrand and hiding in his lab. But there was always the concern that the bold and curious mech would come poking his nasal ridge around, interrupting things and trying to charm.  
  
Best to burn those misconceptions out as soon as possible.  
  
Primus, this week couldn’t go by fast enough.  
  
Starscream snorted. Honestly. Lightscreen’s ‘Once Upon a Time’? Of all things he expected to find Hot Rod doing, reading a collection of romantic fantasies was at the bottom of the list, if it even occupied space on the list at all. It was just so ridiculous.  
  
Starscream shook his head.  
  
Clanlings were an odd bunch. It hadn’t surprised him Hot Rod could read little else. Starscream knew how the clanlings didn’t much care for science. It did them little good, in their scrape for survival. But then, they didn’t have to worry about a ticking chrono hanging over their heads, counting down the time until they would have to beg for assistance, or submit to their fate.  
  
Starscream sighed.  
  
He grabbed his code-reader and plugged it into the medical port on his left wrist. He feared he already knew what it would tell him, and when it beeped the completed scan at him, his lines slushed with ice.  
  
_Coding degradation at seventy-six percent._  
  
Damn, but he should not have been so hasty in testing the synthetic code. He was running out of time. He couldn’t afford to keep worrying about what the clanling had planned. He needed all of his focus for this.  
  
Starscream got back to work.  
  


~

  
  
Rodimus finished ‘Once Upon a Time’ and sped through ‘The Ivory Tower’ and ‘Into the Rust Sea’ in even shorter order. It wasn’t until his tanks started rumbling at him that he thought maybe he should take a break.  
  
He tucked the other datapads under his arm, intending to take them back to his borrowed room, and went out in search of fuel. Scuttle beeped and immediately gave him chase, nearly bumping his heel in the process. It was the only thing which made noise in the silent tower, which was getting creepier by the minute honestly.  
  
Rodimus passed by a door, the locked panel screaming at him to stay away. He was almost certain Starscream spent his days behind this door. It was probably a laboratory or something. He doubted the Seeker’s private quarters were so far from the top.  
  
Rodimus successfully retrieved energon for himself and climbed higher, until he found the little window seat he’d discovered yesterday. His midsection felt taut and warm, and it made him want to itch. He resisted the urge to scratch through the static bandage and folded himself into the seat.  
  
Scuttle beeped, bumped into the wall beneath the ledge, spun in a circle and wobbled around. It paced back and forth across the floor, long sweeps that were never far from Rodimus’ sight. Such a weird thing.  
  
Rodimus’ gaze turned to the window. Sand and rust spun and danced out beyond the transsteel. Sometimes, the frantic whirls died for a fraction of a second, and he could see the shimmer of something in the distance. A non-solid state holographic array, perhaps. Starscream had to be hiding this tower somehow.  
  
Rodimus wondered where he was getting all the power from. An energon crystal mine below the tower maybe? He heard rumor that the land beneath the desert was thick with twisting tunnels and scores of untapped energon deposits, not that anyone was brave enough to try mining the treacherous, unstable underlevels. All kinds of things lived down there, like scraplets and borers. No one was desperate enough to start mining.  
  
Yet.  
  
He shrugged. What did it matter? He’d be gone from here soon enough.  
  
He focused on the next novel instead, ‘A Thousand Days and Nights’. It promised to be quite the adventurous romp, if the summary was any indication.  
  
Rodimus was halfway through it and his energon when his peripheral sensors detected movement. He tore his attention from the story and looked up in time to see Starscream coming into view, the soft whoosh of the Seeker’s thrusters preceding his arrival. His optics brightened as soon as he spotted Rodimus, and he landed with quiet taps of his feet on the floor in front of Rodimus’ seat.  
  
“There you are.”  
  
“Here I am,” Rodimus said, optics narrowing. “Come to insult me some more? Or perhaps I’m breaking something just sitting here.”  
  
Starscream’s wings twitched. “Neither of those,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Your bandages need to be changed.”  
  
Oh.  
  
Rodimus felt his faceplate heat. His free hand brushed over his abdomen, only then realizing that it was beginning to ache with the dull throb of discomfort. The itching returned with a vengeance as well.  
  
Scuttle gave a little trill of delight and beelined toward Starscream, bumping into the Seeker’s foot. Starscream looked down at it and crouched to pick it up, long fingers running over the flat surface of the cleaning drone as he inspected it.  
  
“I’m surprised you care,” Rodimus said, because Starscream had been rude to him earlier, and gratitude or not, Rodimus still felt salty about it.  
  
Starscream all but smirked, one hand propping on his hip. “I don’t,” he said with a roll of his optics. “But Primus forbid you keel over in my tower. Someone might come around asking questions, and then I’ll have _more_ unwanted guests.”  
  
Starscream bent over and set Scuttle back on the floor, giving the drone a little nudge with his fingertips. He then straightened and crooked a taloned finger at Rodimus. “So come on then, Firebrand. You need new bandages, and you need to recharge.”  
  
He spun on a heel and stalked away, as if fully expecting to be obeyed, no doubt heading for the room he’d designated for Rodimus’ use. Scuttle beeped at the Seeker as though incensed, vibrating in place, before scooting back to hover near the base of the window ledge.  
  
Rodimus grumbled subvocally. He could argue, he supposed. He could dig in his heels and refuse to cooperate, but really, what was the point? His belly ached, and the wound itched, and come to think of it, he was exhausted.  
  
He’d concede. For now.  
  
He leveraged himself out of the window seat, though he took his time in doing so. Scuttle circled around his feet, bouncing against his heels and spinning away again. Like it was a game.  
  
Rodimus gathered up his energon and datapads and followed Starscream at a leisurely pace, unsurprised when Scuttle trailed after him. When Rodimus finally caught up to the Seeker, Starscream was huffing and twitching, one foot tapping the floor impatiently.  
  
“I know that grounders are slow, but that was ridiculous,” Starscream said with a growl of his engine.  
  
Rodimus smirked. “I’m injured. I have to be cautious.” He slid past Starscream into the room.  
  
It occurred to him that maybe he should be more polite. Starscream was larger than him, and undoubtedly armed where Rodimus wasn’t, and also, he was the Deathbringer. Maybe being rude was some kind of deathwish. Maybe he should be more cautious.  
  
But why would Starscream save his spark only to kill Rodimus later? Wouldn’t that be a waste of resources?  
  
Rodimus placed his energon and the datapads on the fold-out shelf by the berth. He cast about for some kind of chair, but there was nowhere to sit, so he planted his aft on the edge of the berth and waited for Starscream to attend him.  
  
Starscream still stood in the doorway, and Rodimus wasn’t sure to call his expression. There were echoes of contempt. Exasperation, too. His lips curled.  
  
“And what are you reading now?” he asked with a visible shake, as though trying to throw off the irritation.  
  
“Does it matter?” Rodimus retorted.  
  
“I suppose it doesn’t.” Starscream withdrew a small box from subspace and set it on the berth next to Rodimus. “Raise your arms, please.”  
  
Rodimus blinked. “Wow. A please. I feel like I should be honored.” He did, however, obey. And tried not to shiver when Starscream reached for him, his fingertip glinting brightly.  
  
He hooked a talon in the top strip of the static bandage, where it was already starting to peel away, and began to work it free.  
  
“I reserve genuine niceties for invited guests,” Starscream said as he started to pull off the old bandage, occasionally using spritzes of solvent from the kit he’d brought to loosen the adhesive. “Not mechs who came here with an agenda.”  
  
Rodimus frowned. “You just assumed that’s why I’m here.”  
  
Starscream jerked the last of the bandage free and crumpled it into a ball. “Isn’t it?” he asked with an arched orbital ridge.  
  
Heat stole into Rodimus’ face again. His gaze lowered.  
  
“That’s what I thought.” Starscream tossed the used bandage onto the berth beside Rodimus and reached for his kit again. “It’s utterly ridiculous, you know. I’m just a mech. There’s nothing spiritual or sacred about fighting me or ending up in my berth.”  
  
Rodimus nibbled on his bottom lip. He couldn’t meet Starscream’s gaze. “It’s supposed to be a challenge,” he said. “A test of bravery and skill and...”  
  
“Foolishness,” Starscream supplied and snorted. “I know very well what it’s meant to prove, Firebrand. And has the little fact that none of your fellows returned victorious somehow slipped your notice? Or did you think yourself so special as to be the first?”  
  
Rodimus ground his denta. He refused to dignify that with an answer. He was embarrassed enough already.  
  
Starscream spritzed something on the slash marks, that fizzed and popped as it made contact with the ragged edges of the wound. It was cold, too, and Rodimus shivered. At least it didn’t hurt.  
  
“Well, you aren’t going to be the first,” Starscream said, once it must have become obvious Rodimus wasn’t going to answer him. He was humiliated enough as it was. “So you can get that idea out of your fool head permanently.”  
  
Rodimus’ gaze wandered to the wall past Starscream’s right shoulder. “I’m not that stupid,” he muttered.  
  
“Could have fooled me.” Starscream’s words were sharp, but his hands were professional and careful as he wrapped new static bandages around Rodimus’ abdomen, protecting the wound from potential infection. “There’s nothing frightening or dangerous about me, but do feel free to spin a tale when you go home. Especially if it’ll keep others from bothering me again.”  
  
Rodimus cycled a ventilation. “I’m not telling anyone anything if I can help it.”  
  
Starscream snorted. “Works for me.” His hand smoothed over the bandage before giving it a pat. He shifted his attention to gathering up his kit. “You can lower your hands. Stay out of the oil bath tonight. And if I were you, I’d just head straight into recharge.”  
  
“You trained as a medic?” Rodimus asked as he obeyed, surprised to find that the dull ache was gone. Had the spray been some kind of numbing agent? That was actually pretty nice.  
  
Starscream gave him a sardonic look as he tucked the medkit under his arm. “Right. The Senate makes a habit of training its toys to be medics.” He rolled his optics. “I had some help, but otherwise, I’m self-taught. It was a matter of necessity.”  
  
Ratchet looked down, poking at the edges of the static bandage without disturbing it too much. “Well, this isn’t half-bad,” he commented. “Thanks.”  
  
Starscream’s vents stuttered. “You’re welcome.” He snatched the old bandages up and took another step back from the berth, nearly tripping over Scuttle in the process. “The rules haven’t changed, Firebrand. Don’t touch anything. Don’t break anything. And don’t bother me.”  
  
“Noted.” Rodimus lifted his head to watch Starscream leave.  
  
That interaction had been almost pleasant. He supposed Starscream wasn’t entirely a jerk, just most of one.  
  
He didn’t have to save Rodimus. He didn’t have to patch him up, give him a nice room, decent energon, and the freedom to roam. Starscream would have been well within his rights to leave Rodimus to rot, or lock him up in a cell, or throw him back into the storm. But he hadn’t.  
  
So what if he was a little surly? Mech lived all alone in this tower and was more than aware of the rumors about him. That would make anyone a bit short-tempered, Rodimus supposed.  
  
Starscream kind of reminded him of Sunstreaker, come to think of it, Rodimus realized as he reached for his energon, intending to finish off the half-empty cube. Sunstreaker was like that, too. Cruel sometimes, though not always intentionally, and short-tempered, especially if he felt insulted.  
  
But he was also one of the few who took the time, and the patience, to help Rodimus when he struggled with some of his hand to hand training. He’d also been the one who helped Rodimus acquire the fantasy datanovels without telling his twin who they were for.  
  
People tended not to like Sunstreaker. Most didn’t bother to look past his exterior. Rodimus supposed Starscream was like that. People just looked at him, saw ‘Seeker’ and knew what that meant, and passed their judgments accordingly. When that happened, well, mechs like Sunstreaker stopped bothering. Stopped trying.  
  
There was a reason Starscream lived out here alone. Rodimus wondered if maybe it wasn’t for some of the same reasons Sunstreaker didn’t much like anyone but his own twin. Well, and Megatron.  
  
Rodimus finished off the energon and flopped back into the comfort of the berth. _Carefully_ flopped, since his belly was still tender. He grabbed ‘A Thousand Days and Nights’, intent on finishing it before he let recharge claim him.  
  
He had less than a week to go. He figured he ought to start thinking of this less like a failure and more like a pseudo-vacation.  
  
He might as well make the most of it.  
  


****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently estimating ten chapters for this, but it could be more, since I'm adding more stuff in my edits. Feel free to point out typos if you spy any! I don't have a beta so I do the best I can on my own. :)
> 
> Anyway, hope everyone is enjoying and I'm absolutely thrilled by the response so far. Thank you for reading! And kudos to anyone who can guess what all of those book titles are based off. XD


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone for their very kind words!! I'm so glad you are all enjoying this story. :)

Starscream survived day two with the absolute minimum contact with the Firebrand. Which suited him just fine.   
  
At least the brat knew how to behave. He didn’t leave his room after Starscream changed his bandages, and when Starscream peeked in on him later, Hot Rod was deep in recharge, one of the datapads resting on his chestplate. Well, at least he had decent taste. Even if he had, apparently, seduced one of Starscream’s cleaning drones. The darn thing was in a rest state beneath Hot Rod’s berth.   
  
Starscream left him to it, ex-venting a sigh of relief.   
  
Only a few more days to go, he told himself, and retreated to the safety of the laboratory, secure behind the most stringent security he had. Though he wondered if he truly had anything to fear from this Firebrand. Hot Rod was young and brash, and he had ventured here with an agenda, but he’d obeyed the rules so far. Maybe he could be trusted.   
  
Starscream snorted.   
  
And maybe he ought to return to Kalis and make another go of it. If he was going to consider impossibilities and all.   
  
Far better to get back to work here. Starscream bent over his desk and reconsidered his research. He had a long night ahead of him.   
  
Or at least, he thought he did. But when morning dawned, Starscream onlined only to realize he’d fallen into recharge over his desk, curled at an awkward angle that made his back scream in agony and his wings screech a protest.   
  
Starscream groaned and forced himself to his pedes, stretching out his limbs. Kinked cables screeched at him, and Starscream resigned himself to spending the morning in his oil bath. What a terrible fate, he remarked dryly.   
  
He checked the monitors first. The Firebrand was still ensconced in his room, deep in recharge. It was safe to venture out.   
  
Starscream retrieved a cube of energon for himself, spicing it with a sprinkle of iron flakes, some of which he purposefully spilled to the floor. Scramble, the local cleaning drone, was quick to vacuum it up with little happy chirps. Starscream chuckled.   
  
Even drones were delighted to have a purpose.   
  
Starscream headed downward. He briefly looked up, acknowledging the swirl of dust and grit battering at his skylight, as Saunter worked furiously to polish the transteel. No matter how hard Starscream tried, he couldn’t seem to fix Saunter’s programming. The drone was convinced sand on the outside was a mess it needed to clean on the inside. It only descended long enough to empty its trap or dock on its charger.   
  
The storm continued to rage, blasting at the transteel, and if he listened closely, spattering at the outside walls of his tower. So far, his predictions remained accurate.   
  
Too bad those fools in Kalis could not see how far he’d come without their assistance. Or permission. They’d expected him to lay down and die, like so many of his kin. They expected he’d submit himself, enslave himself, for a mockery of living.   
  
Frag them all.   
  
Starscream would rather offline out here in the desert, his coding turned to rust, then fall in line with their expectations of him.   
  
Fortunately, he had no intentions of dying anytime soon. He would live, if only to spite them all. Not only that, he would live in comfort and happiness, living a life of his choosing and no one else’s.   
  
Starscream descended the ramp, heading for the lowest level, where he’d guided the natural oilsprings into a private oilbath for his personal enjoyment. Yes, the Firebrand had discovered it and made use of it, but honestly, so long as he was clean, Starscream wouldn’t complain.   
  
Relief surged over his aching limbs as he slipped into the hot oil, and it seeped under his armor to caress twitching hydraulics and tense cables. The tension in his wings slowly ebbed away as he sank down and made himself comfortable, occasionally sipping on his energon. He allowed his thoughts to wander, taking the moment for what it was – a rare indulgence.   
  
He’d slipped into a half-doze, half-twilight state when he heard the door to the oilbath creak open, followed by careful footsteps. Starscream tensed. What little ease he’d managed burned away. Of course the clanling would emerge to bother him.   
  
The footsteps stuttered to a halt. “Oh, sorry,” Hot Rod said, and he sounded honestly contrite. “Didn’t realize you were in here. I’ll go.”  
  
Starscream lit his optics, pinning the Firebrand with a steady gaze. “Are you in any pain this morning?” he asked, careful to keep his tone mild, if not guarded.   
  
Hot Rod blinked at him before he looked down at his abdomen, giving the static mesh a curious poke. “Not a bit,” he said. “This stuff seems to be doing the trick. Thanks.”   
  
Starscream waved off the gratitude and rose to his pedes, flicking his wings as oil sluiced off his frame. He fought off a twinge as taut cables still thrust their complaints at him.   
  
“You need to soak for at least an hour, then you are welcome to remove the bandages at your leisure,” Starscream said as he moved out of the bath. It was degrees cooler outside of the heated oil, and he grumbled at having to leave.   
  
He could have sent Hot Rod away, he supposed, but the Firebrand’s arrival reminded him that he had work to do. He couldn’t lounge around all day. Unlike some mechs.   
  
Hot Rod waved his hands. “You don’t have to leave because I showed up. Really. I can come back.”   
  
Starscream shook his head. “It was time I got back to work anyhow.” He shook the last of the oil from his frame, unable to hide his grimace as a cable in his lower back twinged. He moved a hand to it, fingers sliding beneath the armor panel, but due to the construction of his frame, couldn’t reach.   
  
Slaggit.   
  
“Pinched a cable, huh?” Hot Rod sounded sympathetic at least. He twitched his spoiler halves. “Happens to me all the time. Wrench taught me a little trick to help. That is, uh, if you don’t mind me showing you…?”   
  
Starscream froze. He stared at the Firebrand, who offered him a hesitant smile, his optics big and bright and earnest.   
  
He still did not trust the mech. But the twinge in his cable rose again, and it would be a distraction, he knew.   
  
He narrowed his optics. “If this is some ploy to connive yourself into my berth...”   
  
Hot Rod’s field burst with surprise. “No. Honestly, I didn’t even think of it that way!” He ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “It’s just, you know, maybe a small way I can say thank you?” Heat shaded his face into a fine, pink hue.  
  
Starscream stared at him for longer, trying to discern the motivation behind the small, careful smile.   
  
Hot Rod shifted his weight and dropped his hand, his fingers now tangling together. “Guess it was a stupid idea.”   
  
“It was not.” Starscream cycled a ventilation and braced himself. “I am hardly a fool to turn down a genuine offer of assistance.” He half-angled his frame, and as a consequence, enabled him to see whatever Hot Rod did with the reflective panels set into the wall. “Your hands will not stray.”   
  
Hot Rod held up a hand, folding one finger over the other. “Firebrand’s honor.”   
  
“I didn’t know you had any.” Starscream sniffed.   
  
“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Hot Rod approached, albeit cautiously, like one might a wounded predator.   
  
He sidled up to Starscream’s side, though not directly behind him, reaching for the spot nearest to where Starscream’s fingers couldn’t reach. “Here?”   
  
“Further up. There is an overlapping plate to the left of my – ah. You found it.” Starscream let free a soft sigh as Hot Rod’s digits slipped beneath the armor plate and located the pinched cable.   
  
He wasn’t sure what the Firebrand did. Something with magnets perhaps, that sent a light buzz of heat through the cables before they loosened and eased. Relief cascaded through Starscream, so fast that his knees wobbled, and he had to catch himself.   
  
Hot Rod chuckled. “Yep. Works every time.” He gave another pulse of whatever it was before his hand withdrew. He had indeed not strayed.   
  
Starscream raised his hands over his head and gave a long stretch. He twisted about the waist and flicked his wings in the cardinal directions. Not so much as a twinge.   
  
He raised both orbital ridges as he turned to regard the Firebrand. “I am impressed. Thank you.”   
  
Hot Rod flushed again. “You’re welcome.” He backed away, and nearly tumbled backward into the oilbath as a result, though he caught himself at the last minute. “And see? I have honor after all. No wandering hands.” He lifted his hands and wriggled his fingers pointedly.   
  
Starscream snorted. “Enjoy your soak,” he said, and excused himself from the room. He did, after all, have work to do.   
  
A task much easier now that he didn’t have the ache to serve as distraction.   
  


~

  
  
Rodimus sank into the oil bath and lingered, purposefully not thinking about how warm Starscream had been under his fingertips. How relaxed the Seeker’s field had been. How he’d shown so much trust in that simple moment.   
  
As soon as he got home, he owed Wrench a huge thank you for teaching him that little trick for pinched cables. He’d saved himself countless times with it – spoilers could get so tense sometimes. And now, he’d made a dent in that wall Starscream had built around himself.   
  
Maybe even a crack, if he was being generous.   
  
Rodimus grinned and then wiped the smile off his face. He sank down to his nasal structure to keep from looking like a fool. It meant nothing. Right? Surely Starscream wasn’t even thinking about it. Not like it was going to lead to an invitation to the Seeker’s berth or anything.   
  
Still…   
  
Rodimus laughed to himself, blowing bubbles in the oil. He was acting like an idiot, a lovestruck youngling even. So what if Starscream was pretty? He was also dangerous and could throw Rodimus out into a deadly sandstorm if he so chose. He needed to tread very, very carefully.   
  
Rodimus soaked until his timer dinged, letting him know an hour had passed, and dragged himself free of the springs. He drip-dried for a minute, toweled off the rest, and laughed as Scuttle whirled around him, chittering all the while. It didn’t seem to mind the droplets of oil Rodimus kept dripping onto it and the floor.   
  
He moved in front of the reflective panels set into the walls and peeled at the bandages on his midsection. They came away easily thanks to the oil. He dropped their remains into a nearby refuse bin and carefully ran his fingers over the repaired wound.   
  
It was a bit ragged, not as smooth as Wrench would have managed, but altogether, it wasn’t a bad patch job. His self-repair would do the rest of the work, and Sunstreaker could and would fix it up for him later. Sunstreaker never could abide by anyone in his family group looking less than perfect. The scratches and dings were bad enough.   
  
Rodimus’ tank gurgled, reminding him that it was past time he refueled.   
  
He stopped admiring himself in the mirror and headed out, slipping through the narrow corridor that connected with the ground level above. As he approached the entryway, however, he heard Starscream’s voice and slowed to a stop, hovering just inside the open frame.   
  
“Whatever will I do with you?” the Seeker murmured as if he was talking to someone.   
  
Rodimus peeked out and around the corner. Starscream stood in the middle of the walkway, half-turned toward Rodimus and a half-dozen of the cleaning drones milling around his feet. He had one in his hands and was fiddling at the underside with a set of tiny tools, a look of intense concentration on his face.   
  
The drone in his hands blatted an indignant noise.   
  
Starscream chuckled. “Yes, it is your fault,” he said as he poked at something with a screwdriver. “You’re the oldest, Swift. You’re supposed to be setting a good example for the others.”   
  
The drone’s wheels spun and clicked. Its fans audibly whirred.   
  
Starscream laughed again, softer this time, and the tools blinked out of sight. “So you say,” he murmured and crouched, setting the drone on the floor.   
  
It immediately took off, barreling through the crowd of drones at Starscream’s feet, and knocking them aside. More indignant beeping rose up in a chorus.   
  
Starscream audibly sighed and palmed his face. “You’re going backward now,” he said, a note of exasperation in his voice. “At least it’s not pointless circles, I suppose.” He rested his hands on his knees, surveying the assortment of drones milling around him. “Anyone else in need of a tune up?”   
  
Something bumped Rodimus’ foot. He looked down to see Scuttle scurrying past him, making a beeline for Starscream with loud, eager trills. Lights on top of the flat frame flashed brightly.   
  
Starscream turned to acknowledge Scuttle, a look of amusement on his face. “There can’t be anything wrong with you,” he said as he scooped up Scuttle, his fingers running over the unmarred plating. “You’ve barely been online a week, and I examined you last night.” He peered closer, lips twisting in contemplation. “You just need to empty your trap.”   
  
The soft smile on the Seeker’s lips suddenly made Rodimus feel as though he were eavesdropping or looking at something he shouldn’t. So he stepped back into the shadows of the entryway, backtracked a few steps, and then made a loud scuffle with his feet as he came out of the doorway. He rolled his shoulders, pretending like he hadn’t been watching Starscream talk to his army of cleaning drones.   
  
“Wow,” Rodimus said, faking his surprise as he came to a halt and stared in Starscream’s direction. “How many of those things do you have?”   
  
“Enough,” Starscream said with a sniff, his frame language instantly going taut and closed off. He set Scuttle on the floor and rose to his full height. “This is a large building, and I can’t be expected to clean it on my own.”   
  
Rodimus held up his hands in a show of conciliation. “I wasn’t trying to offend. It was just an observation.” Scuttle scooted right up to Rodimus and spun around his feet, giving off giddy little beeps. “This one seems to like me,” he observed with a little laugh. “Or is it how you’re keeping track of me?”   
  
“I’m not tracking you,” Starscream said sharply, his wings twitching. “That one is merely as glitched as all the others. It’s artificial intelligence isn’t honed.”   
  
Rodimus blinked. “What?”   
  
The Seeker waved a dismissing hand. “It’s the newest of the lot. Doesn’t know that you’re not a part of the tower yet. It’ll forget you soon enough.”   
  
That was kind of disappointing.   
  
“Aww.” Rodimus crouched and gently ran a finger over the back of Scuttle’s frame. “I like it though.”   
  
Starscream huffed. “Well, you can’t keep it.” He looked down at the drones milling around his feet and made broad, shooing motions. “Go on. All of you. Get back to work.”   
  
“Do they have names?” Rodimus asked as the drones obeyed, scattering like glitchmice caught in a spotlight. Well, except for the one Starscream had called Swift.   
  
That one loitered, spinning around and around Starscream, bouncing off the walls and Starscream’s feet, as if it couldn’t quite remember how to function. Until Starscream sighed, leaned over, and gave it a nudge. Swift squeaked and took off in a meandering route up the curved walkway.   
  
“You don’t name drones,” Starscream said testily.   
  
Oh, ho. The Seeker doth protest too much.   
  
“That’s a shame.” Rodimus stood back up. Scuttle zoomed around his feet, glistening where the droplets of oil left their mark. “I hope you don’t mind that I named this one then. Since he likes me.”   
  
Starscream’s wings twitched upward and back. “And just what kind of ridiculous designation do you think you can give to my drone?” He sounded personally offended.   
  
“Scuttle.” Rodimus crossed his arms, and Scuttle danced around his feet. “Seems to like it well enough.”   
  
Crimson optics flashed before some of the indignation seemed to drain out of Starscream’s field. “Well, that is decent enough,” he grudgingly allowed. “The others have their own identifiers, however, so don’t go around giving them designations.”   
  
“Identifiers? How is that different from a name?” Rodimus asked.   
  
He tilted his head, trying his best to conceal his grin, but honestly, Starscream’s embarrassed outrage was pretty cute. Reminded him a lot of Sunstreaker when Rodimus caught him reading those absurdly sweet romance novels Sunstreaker liked to pretend he had no use for. Even if he was the one who made all the arrangements to acquire them to share with Rodimus.   
  
Starscream sniffed. “Because I said so.” He spun on a heelstrut, his wings flicking with evident agitation. “Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do. Go occupy yourself elsewhere.”   
  
“Yeah. I can take a hint.” Rodimus turned toward the lift, Scuttle coming along with him. He also knew when to push and when to back off, and now was definitely time for the latter. “Good luck with whatever it is you’re working on.”   
  
“I don’t need luck,” Starscream retorted, but the irritation was half-sparked at best. He stalked up the spiraled rampway, and out of nowhere came Swift, trailing after its master in a haphazard fashion.   
  
Cute, Rodimus admitted, if only to himself, before he shook his head and stepped into the lift. He still needed to refuel and after that, he had a novel to finish and maybe some more exploring to help pass the time.   
  
As for surviving Starscream?   
  
So far so good.   
  
All he needed to do was keep on behaving himself. Relatively speaking.   
  


~

  
  
Starscream thought Hot Rod understood the law of the tower. He thought the Firebrand realized the consequences of disobeying. Especially after that moment by the oilspring, and the careful conversations they’d had. Starscream actually, for a moment, dared to offer the clanling a tiny bit of trust.   
  
And then, as day three of their forced proximity dawned, he was outraged to walk into his laboratory and find Hot Rod poking around, sticking his nose into every corner.   
  
“Just what do you think you are doing in here?” Starscream demanded with a hiss, his wings arching back and up, going rigid with his outrage.   
  
Hot Rod reared back, stumbling, and Starscream held a vent as he eyed the table of delicate lab equipment behind him. But the Firebrand caught himself before he did much more than jostle the table, his optics wide and bright.   
  
“The door was open!” he said, frantically waving his hands, apology all but wafting in his field. “It’s not like I broke in or anything. You’re the one who said I could go anywhere the door was open!”   
  
“While that may be true, the invitation does not extend to my lab!” Starscream snapped. He stormed to the lab center, gaze swinging left and right, hunting for anything Hot Rod might have disturbed. “There is a lot of delicate equipment in here.”   
  
“I’m not some kind of rampaging durylibull.” Hot Rod folded his arms over his chest, his lower lip poking out in a pout. “Besides, how was I supposed to know that all open doors were allowed except  _this_ open door? Maybe you should have been more specific.”   
  
Starscream completed his circuit, his vents huffing sharp enough to make him more than a little dizzy. But as far as he could tell, nothing was damaged or out of place or smudged even. Hot Rod had looked, but not touched.   
  
Lucky mech. If Starscream had found anything ruined, especially the couple of very delicately balanced experiments in the far corner, Hot Rod would have found his flame-painted aft tossed into the sandstorm in a spark beat.   
  
“I’ll keep that in mind the next time an unwanted guest passes out on my doorstep,” Starscream retorted and a small surge of relief passed through him.   
  
No harm had been done. And the fault was his own, for rushing out and forgetting to key the door locked behind him. He’d gotten distracted and forgotten he was no longer alone in his tower. More than that, he’d let slip that his solitude was broken by someone he did not trust as he did Deadlock or his other, few visitors.   
  
“Way to make a mech feel welcome,” Hot Rod muttered, but his optics continued to wander, and what Starscream could sense of his field contained thinly veiled fascination. “What are you working on in here anyway?”   
  
Starscream sniffed. “As if you’d understand.” He pulled out his stool and leveraged himself into it, idly rearranging the notes he’d been scribbling when he’d had a thought and rushed out to grab a journal to confirm his suspicions. Said journal joined the organized mess on his desktop.   
  
He had a feeling his calculations needed to be altered because the manipulations he attempted only worked on a quantum level. And it had been quite some time since Starscream had worked those particular theorems. He needed a refresher course.   
  
“I’m not the idiot you think I am,” Hot Rod snapped, and now he sounded offended. “Yeah, okay, maybe I’m not going to get all of the little details and complicated stuff, but how stupid are you if you can’t put it in simple terms?” He huffed noisily and stomped past Starscream, making quite a bit of noise for someone who should have been taught stealth.   
  
A twinge of something not unlike guilt tugged at Starscream’s spark. He sighed. Hot Rod, after all, had behaved for the most part. He supposed being polite to the Firebrand couldn’t be misconstrued.   
  
“I have many projects,” Starscream said, though without turning to look at Hot Rod. He didn’t want to make it seem as though he were encouraging the mech. “Several have eclipsed my focus at the moment. One of which is a device to help mitigate and manage the severity of the storms that ravage the wilds. The other is a flexible, self-sustaining operating code.”   
  
He heard, rather than saw, Hot Rod snap to a halt, his feet clicking on the polished floor. “Well, I can understand at least one of those,” he said, and he spun back around, the sound of him approaching Starscream once more preceding him. It didn’t hurt that Scuttle whirred along after him. “Especially right now. Though wouldn’t that mess up the natural order of things?”   
  
Starscream sniffed, his wings twitching. “Nothing about the functioning of this planet could be considered natural. We have been modifying, adjusting, and altering our homeworld from the moment the first of us set foot onto the untouched expanse.”   
  
“You mean Primus.”  
  
Starscream half-turned, staring at Hot Rod, who was visible beyond the jut of his wing. “Whichever origin story you prefer.” He flicked his wing. “At any rate, I am not looking to eliminate the dust storms, but make them more manageable and trackable, especially for those mechs who prefer to wander.”   
  
Like Deadlock, whom Starscream forever worried about. Though Deadlock would only see his worry and chase it away with a laugh. He could take care of himself, he’d say.   
  
Hot Rod sidled up beside Starscream, though he approached the desk with care. He nodded. “I guess that makes sense. What about the other bit though? The flexible coding?”   
  
“It’s complicated,” Starscream said, and when Hot Rod’s plating started to ruffle, he held up a hand. “Not that I don’t think you can understand it, but that I don’t feel comfortable sharing with you the particulars of that project.”   
  
Outrage deflated from the Firebrand’s field. “Oh. Can’t really trust me, huh?”   
  
“No, I cannot.” Starscream shuffled around his paperwork again, if only to make himself look busy. “Now, since you can’t be of use in here, why don’t you go do whatever it is you do to pass the time and leave me be.”   
  
Hot Rod backed away from the table, palms displayed in a gesture of conciliation. “Yeah. Sure. I can take a hint.”   
  
He sounded disappointed. Which was ridiculous, in Starscream’s point of view. What was there to be disappointed about?   
  
“If you need any help, you know where to find me,” Hot Rod added, tossed over his shoulder, as he dismissed himself.   
  
“Hah, don’t hold your vents,” Starscream muttered, but Hot Rod was already gone, so Starscream could remotely trigger the door to close. And lock.   
  
Honestly, he would not be so careless again. His spark still trembled with anxiety. What if Hot Rod had broken or disturbed something? What if he’d upset a careful balance and set Starscream back?   
  
What if he’d looked and understood any of the complicated equations that betrayed Starscream’s greater weakness?   
  
He ex-vented softly and tugged out the datapad buried under all the paperwork he’d been shuffling around a-purpose. His future, his spark was on this datapad. The only chance he had to live without being yoked to another’s generosity.   
  
It was still safe.   
  
The last of the tension dripped out of his frame, and Starscream clutched the datapad tightly. That had been close. Too close. He’d best mind himself more thoroughly in the future.   
  
There was too much at stake.   
  


~

  
  
Rodimus hummed quietly to himself.   
  
He couldn’t sing. He didn’t have the voice for it, or the means to produce a lovely song, not like Sunny when he consented to put on a show, or Tracks when he was showing off. Or Breakdown when he thought no one was listening.   
  
Rodimus still liked music and since there was no one here to complain about his caterwauling out of pitch and off-tune, he could hum as much as he liked. If Starscream was wrong and this storm didn’t end within the next few days, Rodimus worried that he would miss the Festival of Lights.   
  
At least he wouldn’t miss the treats.   
  
He’d been bored when he’d started poking through Starscream’s energon storage and prep room. Being nosy paid off as he’d discovered all of the ingredients he’d need to make those chewy energon gels Sideswipe taught him. Boredom gave way to excitement. He figured Starscream would appreciate the sweets, too. Plus, it would be a nice gesture and Rodimus felt he owed quite a few of those.   
  
He was the one who intruded, after all, and he’d arrived under false pretenses at that.   
  
It was so much easier with Starscream’s equipment, too. The convenience could easily become addictive. Not that living in the settlement meant they were completely wild or anything, but living a halfway nomadic life meant there wasn’t much room for permanence of any kind.   
  
Rodimus had been born in the wilds, forged from a spark carried away from Nyon when Megatron and Optimus first fled the cities. He’d known nothing but the settlement and his clan, though he’d heard stories of city life. A lot of the older mechs liked to share data packets, and Hound had particularly vivid holograms.   
  
Rodimus had never longed for the cities. However, fumbling his way through Starscream’s equipment had its own charm. He wouldn’t mind having one of these back home. Sideswipe could make goodies three times at fast if they had these!  
  
Rodimus hummed as the oven beeped at him, signaling the firming cycle. He grabbed a pair of mitts and pulled out the trays, the scent of warmed cobalt floating up to his nasal sensors. His tank grumbled as his mouth filled with lubricant.   
  
Perfect.   
  
He might not be as good at this as Sideswipe, but they’d be edible, that was for sure.   
  
Rodimus grinned, his spoiler flicking up and down. He carefully shifted the warm treats from the tray to a platter. He pulled out a shaker he’d filled with magnesium powder and shook it over the treats. It glittered brightly, making his tank grumble. He resisted the urge to dive in at once. He had to share.   
  
Rodimus double-checked that all of the equipment was shut down behind him. He’d come back for the mess later. At least, the mess that Scuttle and the local drone hadn’t gobbled up.   
  
He lifted up the tray and made his way down to the lowest level, to the door he now knew concealed Starscream’s laboratory. He shifted the platter to one hand and pinged the door with the other.   
  
He waited, a tad impatiently as he shifted from foot to foot, for Starscream to answer, and was just about to ping the door again when it rattled open.   
  
“When I said I didn’t want to be bothered, I meant it, Firebrand!” Starscream snapped, just short of a snarl, his vents huffing and his wings doing that rigid-flick thing they did when he was agitated. “What do you want?”  
  
Rodimus planted a smile on his face and put the tray of goodies between himself and the Seeker. “I made these and wanted to share.” He put on his best, most beguiling expression, one that often calmed the raging Sunstreaker before the warchief came along and stole him away.   
  
Starscream blinked. His gaze dropped to the tray. His nose twitched. “You made these?”   
  
“Yep!” He would not mention the mess he left behind.   
  
Starscream’s wings twitched again. The severe expression on his lips faded. “Very well. Come in.” He turned, showing Rodimus his back, but left the door open behind him. “But don’t touch anything!”   
  
Rodimus grinned and followed Starscream inside. It was much brighter today than it had been yesterday. Starscream had several desk lamps lit, and they were all pointed at some fancy contraption on his desk. One that Starscream returned to with a quiet huff as he dropped onto his stool.   
  
Rodimus moved to his side, looking for a relatively clear spot to rest the tray. He found a stable stack of datapads and decided it would do. Better that they would be in arms reach of Starscream now.   
  
“What are you working on?”   
  
“A project of no significance to you.” Starscream leaned over, peering at the tray of treats, before he pinched one between two talons, giving it a little squeeze. “I wasn’t aware that clanlings had any talent in the culinary arts. I am learning something new of you with every day.”   
  
Rodimus shrugged. “The mech who taught me, he learned it from a mech who used to live in the cities. Sideswipe’s are way better though.”   
  
Starscream nibbled on the treat, some of the dust sticking to his lips. His field lit with surprise and delight both. “Don’t sell yourself short,” he said as his glossa flicked out, catching most of the magnesium dust. “These are delicious.”   
  
Heat stole into his face. Rodimus stuffed two treats into his mouth just to hide it. “Thanks,” he mumbled around his mouthful.  
  
Starscream ate three more in quick succession, with much less care than the first. The delight in his field was evident, and Rodimus couldn’t hide the pride in his own. It wasn’t like making the treats required a special talent or anything. It just made him happy knowing he could do this one thing and do it well.   
  
“Do you enjoy this sort of thing?” Starscream asked.   
  
“What? Sweets?” Rodimus wandered a bit away, lest the temptation to eat more would get the better of him. He had to remind himself he’d made these for Starscream.   
  
Starscream huffed. “No. The process of making them.”   
  
Rodimus shrugged and peered at a nearby table, one with an odd contraption on it. There were all kinds of colorful spheres and long rods and dangly bits and tiny bulbs indicated that it lit up somehow. Fascinating.   
  
“Not particularly. It’s just something to pass the time. Hey, what’s this for?” He reached for the contraption, finger skimming over the glossy blue surface of one of the larger spheres.   
  
It rattled and leapt forward, away from his fingers, causing something else to spin. Rodimus leaned back, guiltily, just as another one of the spheres wobbled precariously and abruptly tumbled from its perch.   
  
Rodimus scrambled forward to catch it, the smooth metal slipping free of his hand. He panicked and snatched at it with the other, nearly crumpling it as his fingers closed around it a touch too tightly.   
  
The contraption rattled, and Rodimus’ free hand darted out, grabbing the wobbly rod and making the twirling motion stop. What. The. Frag. His optics wide, Rodimus had to kickstart his ventilations, as they’d stalled in his panic.   
  
He slowly straightened, easing his fingers from the rod even as he gently put the sphere back where it belonged. It was only a little dented. Maybe Starscream wouldn’t notice?   
  
He chanced a look over his shoulder. Starscream’s optics were narrow slits of crimson, his lips set into a thin line, though the effect was much reduced with magnesium dust in the corners of his mouth.   
  
“That,” he said through obviously clenched denta, “is an orrery. A model of our galactic system. It is a priceless item. And what part of ‘don’t touch anything’ did you fail to understand?” The last emerged as a hiss.   
  
Rodimus’ shoulders came up to his audials. He ducked his head. “Sorry.” His fingers tangled together, even as his audials spat embarrassed sparks. “I was just curious. It didn’t look dangerous.” Though, to be fair, it did look valuable.   
  
“It’s not dangerous. It is, however, a prized possession.” Starscream huffed at him. “This is my tower, Firebrand.  _Mine_. So I say again.  _Touch. Nothing_.”   
  
Rodimus rolled his optics and threw his hands into the air. “Well, what am I supposed to do? Float? Because my feet are touching your precious floor.” He stomped his feet to prove a point. “And how am I supposed to entertain myself if I’m floating mid-air, huh?”   
  
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Starscream selected another treat and nibbled on it. “And if you are that bored, you need only ask. I will find something for you to do.”   
  
“Yeah, right. You’d probably hand me a broom or a cleaning cloth and tell me to start earning my keep.” Rodimus rolled his optics.   
  
Starscream smirked and ate another treat, glossa sweeping over his lips to clean them of dust. “Oh, are you a reader now, Firebrand? Is that your special talent?”   
  
Rodimus folded his arms, making a point not to touch anything. He’d gotten lucky that he’d not broken the orr-whatever that thing was.   
  
“No. You just seem the type who’d delight in free labor.”   
  
Starscream barked a laugh, a genuine laugh. “And you’d be right. Primus knows there is plenty around here that could use a bored hand.” He tipped his head to the left, gesturing toward a clump of mess in the corner. “That scrap pile, for example. Be so kind and take it to the recycle bin for me?”   
  
“Only because I almost broke the orr-thingie,” Rodimus said with a disdainful toss of his head. “And just this once.”   
  
“Orrery.”   
  
“Whatever.”   
  
Rodimus stomped toward the pile, casting around for some kind of can or crate to carry it in. From what he could tell, it was an assortment of mismatched, broken gadgetry and discarded materials. There were quite a few misshapen blocks of various metals, too. He was surprised none of the cleaning drones had tried gobbling up the mess.   
  
“You want to throw all this out?” he asked as he crouched and scooped up one of the blocks – chromium, he thought.   
  
Starscream made a distracted noise. “Mmm. To the recycle bin at any rate. Here it’s just taking up space, and I doubt I’ll ever use it.”   
  
Rodimus pinched the chromium between his fingers. There were other blocks, too. Copper and aluminum and gold and silver even.   
  
“Could I have these then?” he asked, scooping more of the blocks into a little pile. They could fit in his subspace, he thought. Or maybe Starscream would let him borrow a little box.   
  
“Why?”   
  
Rodimus shrugged and ducked his head. “I like to make things when I’m bored.”   
  
This particular skill he’d learned from Kup. Old rustbucket loved to tell stories, but he couldn’t sit still when he did. So he made things, all kinds of things, and one of his favorite things to do was metal-shaping, usually from discarded bits of materials no one needed for anything anymore.   
  
Rodimus didn’t have as much of a knack for it as Kup or Antimony or Dead End even. But it was a nice distraction and gave him something to do with his hands.   
  
Starscream dusted off his fingers and waved a hand at Rodimus. “Help yourself. Take anything you’d like.”   
  
Glee bubbled up in his field. He was careful to conceal it. “Thanks!” Rodimus scooped as many as he could fit into his subspace. He’d look around for a sack for them later.   
  
“It’s just scrap,” Starscream replied, and now he sounded distracted, hunched as he was over his datapads again. “Nothing special about it.”  
  
“Maybe not to you,” Rodimus murmured, not that Starscream was paying him a bit of attention. The Seeker seemed fully focused on his work, though not so focused that his hand didn’t occasionally reach for the tray of goodies.   
  
Pride bloomed within Rodimus all over again. He thought maybe he’d go back and make another panful. Even if Starscream didn’t eat them all today, they’d keep.   
  
Rodimus rose to his feet, nudging the rest of the scrap back into the corner. He wasn’t here to clean up Starscream’s mess after all.   
  
“Guess I’ll leave you alone then,” he said, a touch loud, and Starscream gave him a distracted wave.   
  
He supposed that was as much of a dismissal as he’d get. Rodimus shrugged and made for the door, though with greater care to his step. He didn’t want to nearly-accidentally break anything, not like he’d done with the orrery. Best to be cautious.   
  
“Hot Rod.”   
  
He paused at the door, hand on the frame as it slid aside to allow him to leave. “Yeah?”   
  
“Thank you for the treats.” Starscream hadn’t turned around to say this, but his wings twitched in minute motions, up and down.   
  
Rodimus’ lips split in a grin. “You’re welcome!”   
  
He all but bounced out the door, and then had to stop and stare down at himself because he felt like an idiot. What was he so excited for? So what if Starscream appreciated the treats? Not like it meant anything.   
  
Idiot.   
  
Rodimus smacked his forehead and shook his head. Getting too comfortable here, he was. He didn’t belong in this tower, Starscream’s private domain. He’d be leaving soon enough, if Starscream’s calculations were correct.   
  
What was the point in any of it?   
  
Rodimus sighed and patted his subspace. Best not to make the treats after all. He’d clean up his mess and retreat somewhere. At least he had the metal to work with. It would be enough to entertain him for several days.   
  
And then he’d go home.   
  


***


	4. Chapter 4

“Is that Pierce’s ‘Treasure Planet’?”  
  
Rodimus startled out of his reading reverie and looked over the top of the datapad to see Starscream standing in front of him, his expression one of curiosity rather than disdain. A day after Rodimus had almost broken the orrery, and he expected Starscream to be touchy around him. Yet, this question had been almost pleasant.   
  
“Yes?” Rodimus answered, bracing himself for the inevitable teasing and/or mockery. One could never be sure. “I found it in your library.”   
  
“That’s because I’m an excellent judge of good literature,” Starscream said with a toss of his head and a twitch of his wings. He grinned, tapping the edge of the datapads tucked under his arms. “You do know it’s based on a true story, yes?”   
  
Rodimus raised an orbital ridge. “Impossible.”   
  
“Only if you’ve never left the planet.” The Seeker chuckled. “Oh, it’s embellished, yes, but there are many parts that are true. The Universe Bridge, for example.”   
  
Rodimus shifted, straightening up on the window seat to rest his feet on the floor, Scuttle immediately bumping against his nearest foot. “You mean the portal?”   
  
Starscream nodded. “Yes. It’s nonfunctional at the moment. It lacks a power source in this dimension. But it does exist.”   
  
“You’ve gotta be joking,” Rodimus said accusingly, finding it difficult to believe that there was a universe bridge or whatever. A device capable of taking you anywhere in the universe from a single point in space. “Just cause you think I’m some dumb clanling--”  
  
“I am being honest,” Starscream interrupted, a bit testily. His wings flicked sharply. “I’ve seen it myself. It’s something of a tourist attraction in the Andule Quadrant. There are scores of scientists from all over the universe who are convinced it can be made to work again.”   
  
Rodimus stared at him, unsure if he dared believe. ‘Treasure Planet’ was a fantastic tale, but it felt too much like a fantasy. A whole planet covered in nothing but precious metals and creds? A Universe Bridge? It sounded too good to be true.  
  
“You’ve seen it yourself,” Rodimus repeated as he narrowed his optics. “You’ve actually been off Cybertron.”   
  
Starscream straightened, his head tilting imperiously. “Yes, I have,” he said. “And I can prove it. Granted most of my research was confiscated, but I still have some image captures left.”   
  
Rodimus’ jaw dropped. “You’re serious.”   
  
“Of course I am.” Starscream huffed, his wings twitching upward. “Come on. I’ll show you.”   
  
He didn’t wait for Rodimus to agree. He started toward the library with a determined gait, and Rodimus scrambled off the window bench to follow, tossing the book into subspace as he did. Scuttle chittered and nearly tripped him up in eagerness to come along.   
  
“Your research was confiscated?” Rodimus asked as he caught up to Starscream, slowing his stride to match the Seeker’s, even as they passed the library and kept climbing, toward what Rodimus knew to be a string of locked doors. “Why?”   
  
“For reasons that are no business of yours.” Starscream gave him a sideways glance. “You wouldn’t understand anyway. You’re a clanling. You’ve never experienced life in the city.”   
  
Rodimus shrugged. “Yeah. But from what I’ve heard, I’m not missing much.”   
  
“There are some… amenities that would be useful, but otherwise… yes. There is little to miss of citylife, especially for those of us not in power,” Starscream said, his tone quiet this time, more contemplative.   
  
He stopped in front of one of the locked doors on the hallway and pressed his palm to the field reader. It beeped as it acknowledged him, the door sliding aside, granting him access to a room that was lit only by emergency lights around the perimeter, top and bottom.   
  
“How many planets have you been to?” Rodimus asked as he followed Starscream inside, peering curiously into the dark. He couldn’t see anything but vague shadows. He did, however, hear the quiet hum of consoles in a sleep-state.   
  
“More than you can possibly imagine, but less than I would have liked.”   
  
There was a click before a pale light spilled into the room, doing little to eliminate the shadows, and revealing multiple low shelves strewn around the fringe of the room. The space in the middle, however, was empty, save for a single pedestal with a spherical object sitting in the middle of it.   
  
Why in the desert were they here?   
  
“I’m a bit jealous,” Rodimus murmured as he watched Starscream move to the pedestal, crouching down to open a panel in the base of it. “I don’t really care about the cities, but I’ve always wanted to explore. Go places. See things that you only read stories about.”   
  
Starscream paused and looked at Rodimus over his shoulder, a soft smile on his lips. “No wonder you like fantasy tales.”   
  
Heat flooded Rodimus’ cheeks. He looked away, scratching his jaw. “What are you doing anyway?”   
  
“Proving a point,” Starscream said before there was another click and the ceiling suddenly lit up with pinpoints of light. The globe on the pedestal was emitting a soft glow as well, perhaps the source of the light.   
  
Rodimus looked up, his optics widening. The dots of light were large and small, and ranged in shades of white, yellow, red, and blue. Some were clustered together; some were far apart. In fact, it reminded him a lot of the night sky.   
  
“Wait,” he said as he turned in slow circles. “Are those stars?”   
  
“It’s a representation of them, yes. They are formed of my own memories,” Starscream answered as the lights swirled across the ceiling, only for their configuration to change into something a bit more familiar. “Recognize it now?”   
  
Rodimus nodded and gestured to a cluster of dots just over Starscream’s helm. “I know that constellation. There in the center, that’s the guiding star.” It was the single most important point of reference for a lost clanling. It was what all their charts revolved around. Of course, it wasn’t much use in the middle of a raging sandstorm.   
  
“It’s called Arcturus,” Starscream explained as he crossed his arms and tilted his head, looking up at the star-cluster. “It’s over eighty light years away, and still that visible to us. And yes, it is often called the guiding star by your people.”   
  
Rodimus turned in a slow circle, amazed that the sky had been so accurately recreated on the ceiling. “I see Reticule and the Archer.”   
  
“You’ll probably find many that you recognize,” Starscream murmured, something soft and thoughtful in his voice. “I’ve been to places that I thought only existed in stories. I’ve seen worlds with the strangest of creatures, and the most severe of landscapes.”   
  
Rodimus shifted his gaze to Starscream, watching the Seeker who looked up at the star display with something like longing in his optics. The usually severe lines of his face had smoothed over, allowing his beauty to shine through.   
  
“I once saw a planet that was made almost entirely of crystal. It gleamed in the pale light of its sun, and the surface was nearly blinding,” Starscream said as his wings canted downward, a motion one Rodimus recognized as ease. “There was another world where the entire surface was liquid, and its sentient residents all lived below the waves. There are even other worlds who hold metallic beings like us.”   
  
“Wow.” Rodimus cycled his optics. “Kind of puts a wrench in the thought that Primus made us special in his image, doesn’t it?”   
  
Starscream tossed him a wry look. “I suppose that depends on the strength of your faith.” He leaned forward, fingers brushing over the podium again.   
  
The lights whirred again, until they repositioned themselves, still familiar, but also not. One of the stars in particular was almost as bright as the guiding star, as Arcturus, and it was set in a very familiar constellation.   
  
“That is Alpha Circini, the brightest star in the Circinus Galaxy and the Circinus constellation,” Starscream murmured. “It is also home to the Andule Quadrant and where you’ll find the Universe Bridge.”   
  
“Circinus, huh? We call that constellation ‘the Lovers’,” Rodimus said with a little laugh. Only for the heat in his cheeks to deepen when he realized what he said.   
  
He coughed a vent and scratched the back of his head. “I guess that’s why I’m a clanling and you’re from the city. You know the real names.”   
  
Starscream huffed a laugh and angled his frame toward Rodimus. “Somehow, I think your clan’s name is more charming.”   
  
“Maybe.” Rodimus coughed again. “So, uh, you’ve been to Circinus then?”   
  
“Yes. My master at the time was an adventurer, as much as someone like him could be at any rate. He wanted to see the famed Universe Bridge for himself.” Starscream looked up at the constellation, something nostalgic in his expression. “I was lucky enough to be dragged along. And luckier still to assist him with his research.”   
  
There was a lot of information in that statement, but only one bit of it truly stood out to Rodimus. “Your… master?”   
  
Starscream’s vents stuttered. He whirled toward the podium and slapped a hand against the side of it, the star display abruptly shutting off and casting the room in shadows.   
  
“It’s not important.” His engine growled, less threatening than it was agitated. “And none of your business.”   
  
Like so much else in the little details Starscream let slip. Rodimus was starting to get a better idea of the life Starscream left behind, and it was not a pretty picture.   
  
Rodimus held up his hands and backed toward the door. “I’m not here to pry,” he said. “I just, you know, I’d love to hear about the other planets you’ve been to. If you want to talk about them.”   
  
Starscream moved away from the podium, his armor suddenly clamped tight around his frame, and his expression closed off compared to earlier. “Perhaps another time,” he said, his tone screaming of forced civility. “I’ll leave this room unlocked if you want to come back.”   
  
“Really?”   
  
“Who am I to stop someone from learning?” Starscream paused next to him, withdrawing a datapad from subspace, which he offered to Rodimus. “Instructions for operating the display. There are ways to activate a learner bot as well.”   
  
Rodimus accepted the datapad, feeling as though he’d been given a degree of trust along with it. “Thanks,” he said and dipped his head. “I promise to be careful and not break anything. Well, at least not on purpose anyway.”   
  
Starscream’s lips curved in a slight echo of the openness he’d offered earlier, until the walls came crashing down again. “I believe that much. Have fun.”   
  
“I will. Thanks.”   
  
Starscream left, and Rodimus pretended he didn’t watch the Seeker leave. Not the long lines of Starscream’s back, the sleek curve of his wings, or the subdued nature of his biolights.   
  
He didn’t pay attention to any of it, even as his hands tightened around the datapad and his spark gave a weird flutter.   
  


~

  
  
Starscream returned to the safety of his laboratory, locked the door behind himself, and sank onto the stool at his main workdesk. He pulled out the datapad containing the calculations for the substitute coding, flicked on the desk lamp, and told himself to get to work.   
  
Ten minutes later, he realized he was staring at the far wall, lost in his contemplations, chastising himself for letting down his guard around Hot Rod. But there was something inviting about Hot Rod’s sincerity. He asked questions, and Starscream found himself answering before he realized what words had slipped past his lips.  
  
The clanling was dangerous.   
  
Only a few more days and he would leave. Starscream worried that it might not be soon enough.   
  
His gaze wandered to the tray Hot Rod had brought him yesterday, empty of treats and in need of washing, a few sticky bits clinging to the metal. They’d been delicious.   
  
He told himself Hot Rod had only made them in an effort to earn an invitation to Starscream’s berth. And then he wondered how he could even think a mech like Hot Rod could be so devious. The kid didn’t have a sneaky strut in his frame. He blushed at the drop of a bolt, and stammered over his words, and frag, seemed half-afraid to get within arms reach of Starscream.   
  
And yet…   
  
Hot Rod had come here for a reason. One Starscream was not interested in offering to him, neither fight nor a night in the berth. Surely, to venture all this way, Hot Rod had not given up on his intentions?   
  
The shriek of Starscream’s alarm system sliced through his thoughts. He startled, nearly tumbling out of stool, and scrambled for the desk to regain his balance. Spark hammering in his chassis, he tapped the nearest console to identify the source of the alert. He’d worry about Hot Rod later.   
  
It was his back door again. What was it this time? Another half-dead clanling collapsed on the doorstep?   
  
The screen went black and white with static. Starscream growled and gave it a smack. Or two, actually, since that’s how many it took this time before the image clarified.   
  
Great. Duryllibears. And this time they were…  
  
Starscream froze and leaned closer, peering at the screen. Disgust suddenly crawled down his backstrut, and he shoved himself back. Dear Primus, they were mating on his back doorstep. Again. Why they kept venturing out of their preferred dens to cause a ruckus around his sensor arrays, Starscream did not know. But it slagged him off.   
  
He growled and reset the alarm, the shrill noise abruptly cutting off. If he didn’t chase those beasts away, the motion sensors would only activate again. Ugh.   
  
Starscream stomped out of the laboratory and stormed up to the second floor, angrily punching his code into his weapons locker. The only interruption more irritating than an unwanted sapient guest, was that of the local wildlife. Sure, they were useful as a deterrent to nearby clanlings, but they were a pain in the aft.   
  
The door slid open. Starscream cast a glance through the array of weapons: from short-range to long-range, bladed and not, blasters and everything in between. He didn’t want to kill the duryllibears, but he did want to chase them away. A sonic blaster would cause harm to the structure of the tunnels. But a flare gun?   
  
Perfect.   
  
Starscream snatched one off the rack, just as the motion sensors were tripped again, and the shriek of his alarms split the quiet. Cleaning drones went rushing by the doorway in a frenzy, led by Swift, the poor, glitched thing.   
  
Starscream sighed and stomped out of the weapons locker, leaping over the rail of the walkway to land on the first floor. He slid into the narrow hall behind the lift, where the backdoor was located down a small ramp, hidden from immediate view. He had little doubt Hot Rod had found it, but he couldn’t open it.   
  
Starscream keyed his code into the panel by the door, resetting the alarm again and deactivating the hologram. He manually threw open the heavy door, the sound of low grunting and other noises floating to his audials. At least he could be reassured they were too distracted with one another to notice the door opening.   
  
Starscream flicked the switch to brighten the tunnel, and eased through the door, wings cast high and alert. He saw the duryllibears almost immediately, rutting as they were just before the tunnel curved away.   
  
There was a reason Starscream had never been interested in zoology. He liked non-messy things. Non-sticky things. Non-mating things.   
  
Shuddering, Starscream lifted the flare gun and fired it right over their thrusting frames. “Get!” he snarled as the gun boomed and an explosive cartridge echoed loudly in the narrow tunnel.   
  
It occurred to him that a smarter mech would be afraid. Duryllibears, after all, were of a size with the average mech, and stronger at that. Only a fool would interrupt their mating haze.   
  
It was too late after he’d pulled the trigger. He thought that maybe he ought to run, but luckily, the flare gun had the intended effect. It startled the beasts, forcing them apart. They staggered around in a blinded haze.   
  
Starscream fired another round, and the resulting bang and flash of light was enough to send the duryllibears loping off into the dark, away from his backdoor. Thank Primus.   
  
Starscream lingered long enough to be sure they were gone, and then he ducked back into his tower. Maybe he should think about setting up some kind of long distance system? Just so he wouldn’t have to come down here all the time to chase them away.   
  
He tabled the idea for later. He had more important things to work on at the moment.   
  
He locked the door, made sure the motion sensors were properly activated, and turned to head back to the weapons locker.   
  
“What was that about?”   
  
For the second time that day, Starscream startled, leaping backward, his wings striking harsh against the door, flare gun raised defensively.   
  
Hot Rod immediately backpedaled, hands raised, a look of alarm on his face. “Sorry,” he said, sheepish. “Didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just, I heard the sirens and I got worried.”   
  
“It’s nothing. I was chasing away some vermin,” Starscream said as he cycled a ventilation, forcing calm into his field. He moved past Rodimus, heading back toward the weapons locker. “Bored already with the astronomy sphere?”   
  
“No. I heard the alarms and figured I shouldn’t ignore them.” Hot Rod fell into step beside him, as if it were no unusual thing. “Did you build that yourself?”   
  
Starscream snorted. “I built everything here myself. What makes you think that is any different?”   
  
“I don’t. I just...” Hot Rod trailed off with a quiet chuckle that almost sounded nervous. “Sorry. I guess I don’t really know many, um, scientists? It’s kind of about survival in my clan and none of us spend much time on science-y stuff.”   
  
“Science-y stuff,” Starscream echoed, amused despite himself. He directed an orbital ridge at the clanling. “There is not a single researcher among your people?”   
  
Hot Rod shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back. “Not like you.”   
  
Whatever that was supposed to mean.   
  
“Thanks. I think,” Starscream said dryly. They rounded the corner, and he sighed to himself.   
  
Damn. In his haste, he hadn’t sealed the weapons locker behind him. Thank Primus the clanling hadn’t investigated it first. His energon bow was in there, as well as all the other weapons Starscream had confiscated from him. Not to mention all of the weapons Starscream used, some of which were his own design.   
  
“Whoa,” Hot Rod said, hurrying past Starscream to peer into the weapons locker. “You’re ridiculously equipped. I don’t even think our warriors are this well-armed. Is that an energon sword?”   
  
Before Starscream could answer, Hot Rod ducked inside, hands reaching for the hilt of two blades Starscream had on the walls.   
  
“Don’t touch those,” Starscream snapped as he chased the Firebrand inside, his fingers hooking around Hot Rod’s wrist before he could touch the sword. “In fact, don’t touch anything in here.”   
  
“Sorry.” Again, the clanling looked abashed. He curled his fingers and tugged his hand away from Starscream. “It’s just… only warriors can use those, you know. I’ve never gotten to hold one before.” There was longing in his tone, and in his gaze, as he stared at the swords with nothing short of appreciation.   
  
Starscream returned the flare gun to its case. “You’re not a warrior?”   
  
“You know I’m a Firebrand, and you still ask that?”   
  
“I’m only vaguely familiar with the culture of the clanlings and all of them have their quirks,” Starscream said as he watched Hot Rod from his peripheral vision.   
  
Hot Rod sighed and crossed his arms, his shoulders hunching. “I’m still a trainee,” he said, and his face darkened as he looked away. “I’ve not been offered the warrior’s badge. Which, if you remember, is why I was out here in the first place. To prove myself.”   
  
Starscream made a noncommittal noise. He turned, bracing his hip against the edge of the display counter. “Energon blades require a lot of training. I am not surprised their use is restricted.”   
  
“Do you know how to use one?”   
  
“Of course.” Starscream waved airily. “I know how to use everything here. I’d be an idiot to keep a weapon on hand I wasn’t familiar with.” He’d be dead twice over if he didn’t know how to defend himself. Surely even a lost clanling knew that.   
  
Hot Rod’s optics widened as his gaze shot back toward Starscream, before he turned in a slow circle, looking around him. “Everything?”   
  
“Even your energon bow.” Though he wasn’t particularly skilled with long-range target weaponry. Starscream preferred broad-spread blasters or energon blades, especially if dual-wielding.   
  
A touch of awe colored Hot Rod’s field. “No wonder they call you the Deathbringer,” he said and gave Starscream a crooked grin. “Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t challenge you. I don’t think I would’ve won.”   
  
Starscream snorted. “Of course not. Aside from the fact I’m far older than you, I have more experience as well.”   
  
“And modest, too.”   
  
“There’s no need to be modest when it’s the truth,” Starscream said with a sniff. “I live out here alone so I have to know how to defend myself, from vermin and unwanted guests alike.”   
  
Hot Rod nodded. “That makes sense,” he murmured, and his gaze wandered back to the energon sword, the broadbladed one, longing so strong in his field that it made Starscream dizzy.   
  
If later asked, Starscream wouldn’t be able to say why he choose to do what he did next. He would possibly even deny it. He couldn’t explain why he felt the need to pull down one of the blades from their display and offer the simple hilt to Hot Rod. Save perhaps that the longing expressed in the Firebrand’s field was so very similar to his own, years upon years ago, when he received his first taste of true education.   
  
“You know how to hold it at the very least, yes?” Starscream asked with a raised orbital ridge. “The pointy end goes  _away_  from your frame.”   
  
Hot Rod’s optics rounded as his face colored. “I know that much,” he said and lifted his hands, reaching for the blade, only to hesitate. “You sure you wanna trust me with this? I could do something stupid, you know.”   
  
“I don’t think you’re that big of a fool.” Starscream chuckled. “Now, you could always prove me wrong, but I don’t think you will.”   
  
Hot Rod stared at him, his optics bright and blue. “I won’t,” he said as he carefully took the hilt, fingers curled around it with an almost reverence. It was a heavier weapon, so he used both hands to grip it, as one thumb rested over the activator switch.   
  
“Most of the warriors eventually have these internally connected,” Hot Rod explained as he gave an experimental swing of the unactivated blade. “They power it with their own frames.”   
  
“Yes, well, this comes with an external power pack built into the hilt.” Starscream gestured toward the display case and the box beneath it. “Rechargeable at that. I prefer the smaller dual-wields, but even those are a drain, so I rely on external supplies.”   
  
“Why two?” Hot Rod asked.   
  
Starscream leaned against the counter again, his hands braced on the edge, as Hot Rod gave a few more practice swings. “They are easier for someone with my frametype and fighting style. They are better suited for speed and agility.”   
  
“I’d love to learn someday,” Hot Rod murmured before he sighed and straightened, offering the hilt of the broadblade to Starscream. “Thanks.”   
  
I’ll teach you.   
  
The words almost left his lips, before Starscream reminded himself how foolish they were. The wildling wasn’t going to be around long enough to learn, and the last thing he needed to do was make Hot Rod more skilled. Not if he still carried the intention to defeat Starscream in any kind of combat.   
  
“I’m sure you’ll get one of your own someday,” Starscream said instead. He accepted the blade, returning it to its proper nook. “You seem like a determined mech. I’m sure there’s nothing that can stop you.”   
  
“Well, you’re probably the only one who believes that.” Hot Rod shrugged with one shoulder and crossed his arms. “Anyway, you probably have a lot of work to do, so I’ll leave you to it.”   
  
Starscream hesitated for only a fraction of a second. “If you’re bored, I have a training room.”   
  
Hot Rod paused mid-turn. “What?”   
  
Starscream cycled a ventilation. “It’s probably not a good idea to let you have an active energon blade, because of your inexperience not because I think you’re stupid,” he hastily corrected. “But if you want to practice with some weaponry, I do have a training room. I’ll unlock it for you. If you want.”   
  
“That would be great!” Hot Rod’s spoiler wriggled with genuine delight, and Starscream would never admit how cute that was.   
  
“Then I’ll do it.” Starscream turned back toward the weapons, focusing on them if only to keep from staring at the Firebrand. “It’s directly below the library. Help yourself to anything available there, but do remember, I’m not even qualified as a field medic.”   
  
Hot Rod chuckled. “I’ll be careful.” In his peripheral vision, Starscream saw him back toward the door. “And, um, thanks.”   
  
He left before Starscream could formulate a response. Which was good, because he couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound enormously stupid.   
  
Starscream sighed and braced his hands on the counter. His shoulders hunched as he offlined his optics, trying to regulate his ventilations, while his spark gave off several odd tremors.   
  
He was letting Hot Rod get too close and playing a very dangerous game. Clearly, he’d been alone too long if he was allowing himself to be this nice to a wildling. Especially one who’d come here with an agenda.   
  
An idiot, that’s what Starscream was becoming.   
  
An absolute idiot.   
  
And one that needed to get back to work. Time was running out. Percentages were dwindling.   
  
Because pretty soon, the choice might be taken from him.   
  


*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still self-editing, so I apologize if you noticed any errors. Thanks everyone for reading! I"m just so happy that people are enjoying this labor of love. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Time moved ever onward, faster than Starscream would have liked, a dread growing in his tanks, not unlike inevitably. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek as he checked his systems, first thing in the morning, and last in the evening before recharge claimed him. He recorded every reading.   
  
And the steady decline of his code. Anxiety eroded at him, reminding him that he was running out of time. That the storm raged until it started to weaken, and by the time he could send Hot Rod home, he might not have the strength to wait for Deadlock.   
  
Hot Rod, at least, was proving to be better company than Starscream could expect. He didn’t bother Starscream, except when he dropped by with a tray of treats or two. He kept to himself. Starscream caught him more than a few times out in the windowseat, either reading or doodling. He’d sat there to repair his tarp, too, sewing back the ripped edges with very precise and even stitches.  
  
The Firebrand tended to fidget, Starscream noticed. He always had to be doing something with his hands, and Starscream idly wondered how many things he’d find with random doodles on them. It explained, too, why Hot Rod spent so much time making treats in the energon storage room. Silence didn’t suit him for long.   
  
Hot Rod had to be moving, doing something, at all times. He spent hours in the training room, after Starscream offered him the use of it, and he’d spent the better part of last evening buried in the Star Charts, clicking through the files Starscream had on all the planets he’d ever visited.   
  
Starscream sighed and scrubbed at his forehead. He was spending far too much time thinking about the clanling when he needed to get back to work.   
  
 _Sixty-three percent_. That was what this morning’s reading had shown. Attempts to upload a saved copy of Deadlock’s code had proven as useless as the artificial code Starscream had been struggling to program. He needed the charge of a live connection. Or at least, he assumed that was the issue.   
  
Or perhaps he just needed to completely revamp the artificial code.   
  
He rubbed harder at his forehead and stared at his calculations. The numbers swam before his optics, blurring from one equation into the next. He waited for a burst of inspiration that wouldn’t come. He didn’t know if he should blame his anxiety or that he’d been pushing himself so hard on this one project in particular.   
  
Maybe what he needed was a change.   
  
Starscream pushed back from his desk and rose from the stool. He set aside the complicated equations and switched gears to a different project: a synthetic energon capable of being cheaply produced and condensed. Basically, it was the ideal energy substitute for the lower class, the poor, those stuck living on the streets with no other means of providing for themselves.   
  
Just as Starscream had been once. Just like Deadlock, too.   
  
Sometimes shifting gears to a different project could help unlock his processor from what it was stuck around on another.   
  
He sat on a rolled stool and pulled out the datapad, reviewing his progress on the synethetic energon project. So far, the largest concern was that the end-product was unstable. It had a tendency to, err, explode. Even more than standard energon did. Too hot equaled kaboom. Too cold and it tended to turn to acid.   
  
Neither of which made it safe for consumption.   
  
Truthfully, not even the best scientists in all the universities understood energon, basic energon. What entirely it was made from. How it worked. How a refined crystal could power everything they relied upon. Starscream ventured into unknown territory here.   
  
Scientists had been working since the energon shortages first began on a synthetic energon formula. No one had been successful so far. Starscream would love to create a stable formula, just to shove it in all of their arrogant faces.   
  
Look at this, he’d say. The cold constructed mech. The Seeker drone. The buymech you’d turned him into. And he’d solved this problem none of you could. That would be the ultimate victory, Starscream thought.   
  
He switched on the burner to let it warm up and started arranging his equipment, internally musing on which chemical he’d like to start as his base this time. Seeding planets for energon had always required a careful balance of heat and pressure, and chemical stock. It was nearly impossible to replicate the same conditions twice.   
  
Some conditions required a different chemical seed. Starscream’s greatest successes had always been to start with the elemental gases, particularly argon. Which was fascinating because it was so scarce on Cybertron.   
  
Might as well begin with argon.  
  
Starscream hummed to himself as he started to arrange the necessary equipment. He would worry less about the calculations for now and just start wild experimentation. Who knows? Maybe it could actually produce something worthwhile. He’d just have to make sure he was tracking every choice he made.   
  
The door to his laboratory chimed.   
  
Starscream paused and checked his chronometer. Well, it was midday. If the last two days were any indication, Hot Rod often visited around midday, usually with a tray of his latest batch of treats. He experimented with Starscream’s supplies, creating all different kinds, most of which recipes he attributed to one of his companions. Sideswipe was the name?   
  
The door buzzed again. Starscream’s tank grumbled at him as if in reminder. A well-fueled frame made for a well-fueled processor, yes? Or was that just an excuse?   
  
Starscream remotely allowed the door to open, though he refused to look toward it with any eagerness. Peripherally he saw Hot Rod poke his head into the laboratory.   
  
“I’m not interrupting, am I?” he asked, polite as Starscream didn’t know a clanling could be.   
  
“If you were, I wouldn’t have opened the door,” Starscream said dismissively. His wings twitched, betraying him. “What is it?”   
  
Hot Rod inched inside, the door sliding shut behind him. Sure enough, he clutched a tray in his hands, and he gestured with it. “Made more treats. Thought you might like some.”   
  
Starscream waved a hand to an empty space on the lab table. “I appreciate it,” he said, keeping his hands busy with his equipment. “Though you know you don’t have to keep making them. It’s not going to make a difference.”   
  
Hot Rod set the tray on the table, his gaze focused on the carefully arranged treats. “I, uh, wasn’t even thinking of it that way? I just like doing it.” He gave Starscream a sidelong look. “And I still owe you. For saving my spark.”   
  
Starscream made a noncommittal noise. “You’re healing well?”   
  
Hot Rod patted his abdomen. “Yep. You do good work for someone who’s not a trained medic.”   
  
“Are clanlings not taught basic field medicine?” Starscream asked as he half-swiveled, hooking a talon on the edge of the tray to drag it closer.   
  
Hot Rod shrugged and leaned against the table, crossing his arms. “Some of us specifically seek that training. Scouts and hunters are given field medic certification. The rest of us get some basic stuff.” He chuckled, though it was self-deprecating. “I don’t have the patience for it.”   
  
“That I can believe.” Starscream sniffed the treat and gave it a nibble. His glossa tingled at the spicy-sweet flavor. “This is interesting.”   
  
“Isn’t it?” Hot Rod leaned forward, a smile curving his lips. “I tried adding some iron flakes to the mix beforehand, just as an experiment. They turned out to be pretty good!” His spoiler flicked up and down, like a youngling discovering something new.   
  
Primus, he was adorable.   
  
“I would call it a successful experiment,” Starscream agreed, and popped the rest of the candy into his mouth. He’d miss these treats, he realized. Maybe he ought to learn how to make them himself someday.   
  
“I’m glad you think so.” Hot Rod leaned back, unfolding his arms, only to clasp his hands behind his back. “So, uh, what’re you working on? Or am I allowed to know?” He peered at the equipment, but he didn’t try to touch anything. He’d learned his lesson after nearly breaking Starscream’s orrery apparently.   
  
Starscream leaned back. It wouldn’t hurt to share the details of this project. “I am attempting to create a stable synthetic energon formula to help solve the energon crisis.”   
  
Hot Rod’s optics got big and wide. “Whoa,” he said. “That sounds really difficult. How smart are you?”   
  
“More intelligent than I was ever given credit,” Starscream answered with a flick of his fingers. His spark, however, warmed at the compliment. “Though now that you are here, I could use a second pair of hands.”   
  
Hot Rod blinked. “Wait. You mean, I can help you? I get to touch stuff?”   
  
Starscream almost laughed aloud at that. “Yes,” he answered with a small smile. “You would get to touch things.”   
  
“Then sure! I’d love to help! Only, I mean, I don’t know much of anything about science.” Hot Rod ducked his head and scratched at his chin. “Or at all. I don’t know how much help I’d be.”   
  
“You have two hands,” Starscream waved dismissively again as he turned back toward the desk, setting the suspended base into a low boil as the titration system dinged to let him know it was ready for use. “I don’t expect you to do much more than play fetch.”   
  
Hot Rod made a face. “That’s better than nothing, I guess.”   
  
Starscream chuckled. “Then go fetch yourself a stool while I get the rest of this set up.”   
  
Hot Rod’s spoiler wriggled with excitement as he turned to obey, Scuttle on his heels, beeping excitedly as if echoing Hot Rod’s emotions. At this point, Starscream wondered if Scuttle would try to follow Hot Rod when he left. As it were, Starscream had two drones who patrolled the laboratory, Skip and Scrape, both of whom were docked at the moment.   
  
Starscream gathered up several bottles of various chemicals and gases, all of which he intended to experiment with, and returned to the station. He carefully siphoned argon into the stoppered flask, the colorless gas invisible to the naked optic. The careful application of an electric field, however, would give it a purplish hue.   
  
“So I get why we need something like synethetic energon,” Hot Rod started as he dragged a stool close and hopped up into it. “But why are you so interested in making it?”   
  
“Because no one else has,” Starscream said as he filled a few more flasks, choosing the chemicals almost at random. Today was not a day for precision. It was for wild exploration, freeing the processor n order to promote flexibility. “And because there are many who think it can’t be done.”   
  
Hot Rod leaned against the counter, crossing his arms on the edge. “Oh, so it’s a pride thing.”   
  
Starscream gave him a sidelong look. “Have you never wanted to do something because no one else could?”   
  
“I’m here, aren’t I?”  
  
“Ah, good point.” Starscream pointed to one of the items behind Hot Rod. “Hand me that scale behind you. I need to weigh out the beryllium.”   
  
“A scale I can recognize.”  
  
Starscream chuckled again and carefully poured some of the powdered metal onto the scale, relying on instinct rather than any scientific calculation. The quiet drip of the base was a calming background noise.   
  
“So you know nothing of science? Chemistry? Physics?” Starscream asked as he carefully added the beryllium to the base solution. “What on Cybertron did you study in your clan?”   
  
Hot Rod shrugged. “The basics. I can read, contrary to popular opinion, and write, too. But mostly, we focus on useful stuff. Weaving. Self-defense. Hunting. Small crafts. Science is a luxury, I guess.”   
  
A luxury. Starscream internally snorted. Though he supposed Hot Rod had a point. His education had been received due to a whim by one of his owners, who wanted a capable lab assistant more than a berthmate. Starscream had then furthered his own education by reading every datapad he could get his hands on, and skipping recharge to watch info-videos on the local datanet.   
  
“Then you had no scientists? At all?” The very idea of it still baffled Starscream. Truly the clanlings were uncivilized mechs, to completely disdain the very idea of scientific progress!  
  
Hot Rod leaned his head on his hand and braced an elbow on the table. “Well, we have a few mechs who are kind of like scientists. Beachcomber knows all about weather and warns us about storms and land disturbances and helps us find all of the minerals we need. Hound’s our best tracker. He knows the local wildlife and stuff.”   
  
“You live a far different life from the citylings,” Starscream commented, still having trouble wrapping his processor around it.   
  
Hot Rod laughed. “Duh. We’re clanlings!” He paused and his face darkened a little with embarrassment. “Though a lot of the older ones, they used to be citylings. A long time ago. Warchief Megatron and Optimus Prime led the first of us into the wilds, after the war that wasn’t.”   
  
Starscream made a noncommittal noise. “Yes. I’ve heard. They chose to flee rather than fight the Senate.”   
  
“They aren’t cowards!” Hot Rod growled as he abruptly straightened, his spoiler halves flicking high and taut.   
  
Starscream raised an orbital ridge and looked directly at the Firebrand. “I didn’t say that they were,” he said, careful to keep his tone calm. “It takes a certain type of courage to look in the face of that kind of horror and choose to seek a better life elsewhere rather than stand your ground.”   
  
“That’s because they are the bravest mechs I know!” Hot Rod insisted, so passionate and determined, a fire in his optics. “I’m too young to remember the Exile, I was sparked out here in the wild, but even so, I’d never go to the city.”   
  
Starscream leaned back. “You can say that because you’ve never been there. You don’t know what you’re missing.”   
  
“You don’t seem to be in much of a hurry yourself,” Hot Rod shot back, his field like a drizzle of electric fire against Starscream’s own. “I know what kind of place the cities are. Places of too little of everything. Energon. Homes. Affection. All of it. Mechs are disposable and treated that way. I could never want to go to a place like that.”   
  
Starscream ground his denta. “You’ve only been told the worst of it. You, who come from a place where you don’t even have scientists, who knows nothing of discovery or conveniences. There are good mechs in the city, just as there are bad. That’s the way things are. The world isn’t black or white, Firebrand. It’s shades of gray.”   
  
It bothered him, Hot Rod’s ignorance, and Starscream wasn’t entirely sure why. It wasn’t as though he disagreed. Starscream himself never wanted to return to Kalis, to the cities. Not unless it was to brag and to gloat, to show them he had succeeded despite being treated as a commodity or disposable. Even so, as hard as life had been, leaving the cities had not been easy.   
  
It hadn’t all been terrible.   
  
Blurr had always been the best of it.   
  
“I know that.” Hot Rod vented sharply, his optics bright, betraying his irritation and snapping Starscream out of his thoughts. “I’m not that naive or an idiot or… or… whatever uncomplimentary things you’re thinking about me!”   
  
Starscream sighed and rubbed his fingers over his forehead. “I never called you any of those things.” Not aloud at any rate. “I do, however, think you are rather quick to judge something you haven’t experienced for yourself.”   
  
“Pfft. Look who’s talking. You live out here alone, watching mechs like me from afar, but what do you really know about how we live?” Hot Rod retorted with a surprising acuity. “We’re not savages, you know. We’re just mechs who chose a different kind of life. How does that make us any different than you?”   
  
That Hot Rod had a point wasn’t even the most startling point of the conversation.   
  
Starscream stared at him, for once at a loss for words, trying to find something to say that wasn’t an immediate concession. Because Hot Rod was right. They’d judged each other, purely based upon the words of others, and both of them were at fault. It was highly unfair for Starscream to place the entirety of the blame on Hot Rod’s shoulders.   
  
“It doesn’t, that’s how,” Hot Rod continued, vehement. “And yeah, maybe I came here with an agenda but that doesn’t… uh… is that supposed to be doing that?” he asked as his gaze slid to Starscream’s laboratory equipment.   
  
Starscream blinked at the abrupt change in topic. “Is it supposed to be doing what?” He turned to look at the burner and titration system, where he’d set up the complicated equipment to drip feed various chemicals into the base solvent.   
  
A mixture which was bubbling and boiling violently.   
  
Starscream’s optics widened. He lurched toward the burner, hand reaching for the heating unit to turn it down, as the other hand snatched up a hot pad to remove the bubbling flask.   
  
That was of course the moment it exploded, sending a spray of something wet and sticky in all directions, the glass shattering and causing a chain of explosions throughout the device. Hot, gummy fluid spattered over Starscream’s hand and chassis, barely avoiding his face, and it stung where it splashed his armor. He dimly heard a clatter and a curse as Hot Rod scrambled away.   
  
It happened so quickly, Starscream’s hands still hung in midair, even in the aftermath. The stench of the mixture – like spoiled energon – spilled into the room, cloying and nauseating. Thank Primus it wasn’t corrosive, he thought, as he finished switching off the burner, though it was far too late to save himself.   
  
“I take it that wasn’t supposed to happen?” Hot Rod asked from the vicinity of the floor, where he’d tripped over his own stool and tumbled onto his back.   
  
Starscream looked at him, spattered as he was in the sticky fluid as well, though he’d caught most of it on his left arm and side. His face had been spared as well. Scuttle beeped as he knocked against Hot Rod’s side, perhaps sensing the mess and outraged that it couldn’t get to it.   
  
“No,” Starscream said curtly. “It wasn’t.” He stood up, mouth twisting in disgust as he looked down at himself, where thick globs of goop dripped from his chassis.   
  
Skip and Scrape activated then, zooming free of their charging ports to barrel across the floor, making a direct course for the broken glass and sticky spatters on the floor.   
  
“It’s not my fault!” Hot Rod said as he righted himself and the stool. He winced as he twitched his spoiler halves, which had taken the brunt of his fall. “I didn’t touch anything.”   
  
Starscream wiped ineffectually at his chestplate and stained cockpit. “The fault is mine. I was not paying proper attention.” Well, that was one method he could cross off the list at least.   
  
“Oh.” Hot Rod turned in a slow circle, looking like a lost turbofox kit. “This stuff isn’t corrosive or anything, is it?”   
  
Starscream shook his head and stared at his demolished equipment. He’d have to replace it all, which was not going to be cheap. He’d either have to ask Skyfire for it, as he still had contacts in Protihex, or Starscream would have to go to the cities himself, hoping to find someone willing to sell to a Seeker. He’d ask Blurr, but it would seem very odd for a racing champion to purchase laboratory equipment, and the last thing Starscream wanted was to put a target on his former lover’s back.   
  
“No, though it’s best that you wash it off quickly. It’ll only get harder to clean as it dries and solidifies,” Starscream said. He half-turned toward Hot Rod. “Rinse off in the washrack before you soak in the oil spring.”   
  
“But...” Hot Rod turned in another one of those pointless circles. “There’s a pretty big mess in here. You don’t want some help?”   
  
“No. I can handle it.”   
  
Starscream purposefully shifted his gaze away, crouching to gather up the larger bits of broken glass. The cleaning drones swarmed around his feet, but they couldn’t get everything.   
  
He’d gotten distracted enough. He didn’t need Hot Rod lingering, conversation so easy between them as they cleaned together. He’d let himself be interested in Hot Rod and look what happened. He’d accomplished nothing and destroyed delicate equipment.   
  
Starscream hid his frustration from Hot Rod. It was, after all, only tangentially the Firebrand’s fault. He’d come here uninvited, but Starscream should have kept his distance. It really was his fault alone.   
  
“Are you sure?”   
  
Starscream dumped the armful of broken things into a disposal bin. He’d sort through it later for recyclables. “Yes.”   
  
Hot Rod audibly vented. “If you insist.” Starscream heard the shuffle of his feet as he turned away. “But you can’t get mad at me later for not helping.”   
  
“Noted.”   
  
The lab door slid open and shut behind Hot Rod, leaving Starscream alone. Well, save for Skip and Scrape who scooted around, gobbling up the goo from the floor. Scuttle had followed Hot Rod, no doubt to clean up every bit of the mess as it flaked from the clanling’s frame. Hot Rod would probably have a parade of drones after him, come to think of it.   
  
Starscream vented and focused on cleaning up, chastising himself for being such a fool. This was why he didn’t like distractions. This was why he should have tossed the Firebrand back into the sandstorm and washed his hands of such troublesome encounters.   
  
His gaze slid to the code reader.   
  
Sixty-three percent.   
  
Starscream shuttered his optics and leaned against the edge of the counter, disquiet growing in his abdomen, rumbling through his tanks.   
  
He couldn’t afford any more distractions.   
  


~

  
  
It wasn’t anger that roiled in Rodimus’ spark, but bewilderment. He stormed toward the lowest level, wiping ineffectually at the goop staining his frame, as Scuttle beeped in his wake, and two more drones joined the parade.   
  
Starscream’s behavior was just… odd. He had no other words. It wasn’t that he knew the Seeker that well, but Starscream was very mercurial. Friendly and open one minute, angry and concealed another. If he’d made any indication he’d wanted Rodimus to leave the lab, he’d have done so immediately. But no! He’d invited Rodimus to assist.   
  
Rodimus vented. He didn’t know why he was getting so aggravated in the first place. It’s not like he actually cared what Starscream thought of him. They were only strangers, thrust into proximity due to a curious turn of events. A couple days from now, the storm would be over, and Rodimus would be on his way home, a failure by every definition of the word.   
  
Disappointment crouched on his back, and his shoulders slumped. He dragged himself into the washracks and rinsed off, having to resort to a scrubber just to get the worst of the stinky goo from his seams. Scuttle didn’t follow him into the washracks, just lingered outside the door, spinning in helpless circles.   
  
He’d miss the little guy, Rodimus realized with a small smile.   
  
He finished scrubbing, rinsed again, and then cut off the washracks. He slipped out and slid into the oil spring with a sigh of satisfaction. He’d definitely miss this, he thought as he sank up to his neck before rising again and perching on one of the ledges below the surface. It was so relaxing to sit here, the oil soaking into his joints and seams.   
  
Well, slightly less relaxing with Scuttle making repeated circles around the edge of the oil bath, chittering and chirping all the while. It reminded him of the time he’d gone for a dunk in one of the underground pools they’d found and a hatchling had come along, worrying about him drowning. Cute kid.   
  
But Starscream.   
  
That mech was a mess of contradictions. He insisted Rodimus was a distraction and a bother, yet he kept being kind to Rodimus. He offered use of his home, of his training facilities, his research rooms. He invited Rodimus into his private spaces, even consented to conversations that revealed a lot more than Rodimus would have expected. But then, in the very next moment, he turned waspish and cold.   
  
Rodimus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He supposed if he lived isolated from the rest of the world, he might be a contrary mess, too. Social interaction was difficult on a good day. But if you didn’t regularly interact with people, you’d fall out of practice. Right? Especially if you didn’t much like people in the first place.   
  
Just like Sunstreaker. Who could be pretty mercurial at times, too. Come to think of it. And he had certain triggers. One did not insult Sunstreaker’s fighting ability, paintjob or twin, and not suffer the consequences. He’d stood up for Rodimus on more than one occasion, too.   
  
“Don’t fall asleep in my spring, Firebrand. I’m not going to fish you out.”   
  
Rodimus slid his hand down and looked up as Starscream came striding into the room, his frame liberally spattered with the results of the failed experiment. Two drones came in his wake, though they struggled to keep up with his rapid pace.   
  
“I wasn’t,” he said.  
  
“Good.” Starscream vanished into the washracks, his drone shadows trilling where they lingered outside the door, refusing to enter just as Scuttle hadn’t.   
  
Speaking of which, Scuttle’s circuit brought him into range of the two drones, and the three of them bounced off one another. Rodimus watched them, if only to keep from getting frustrated. If it wasn’t his fault the experiment had gone kaput, why was Starscream acting like he’d committed some terrible sin? He’d thought they were getting along.   
  
Should he leave before Starscream came back out? He had the feeling he’d offered some kind of offense. Again. But he wasn’t sure how. Should he bother making amends? He’d be leaving in a couple days.   
  
The door opened, and Starscream emerged before Rodimus could make up his mind. The Seeker said nothing as he slid into the natural spring on the opposite side from Rodimus. His wings twitched, however, and his armor had settled close to his frame as though he was uneasy. Did he think Rodimus was going to jump him in the springs?   
  
That would be foolish for all kinds of reasons. Rodimus wasn’t that kind of aft anyway, but aside from that, Starscream was bigger and stronger and no doubt, armed. And even if he wasn’t, that he was skilled with so many different weapons meant he was not a mech Rodimus wanted to underestimate.   
  
“Did you get it all tidied or do you need help?” Rodimus asked, desperate to cut the quiet tension. He worried that if he moved, it might set Starscream off. “I’m pretty handy with solvent and a rag.”   
  
“It’s taken care of already.” Starscream sank up to his shoulders in the oil, his wings drifting through the warm fluid and his gaze elsewhere.   
  
“Oh.” Rodimus chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Um, what about your back? Did any get on your wings? I could help with that, if you want.”   
  
Crimson optics shifted toward him slowly, narrowing as they did.   
  
Frag. That could have been taken the wrong way.   
  
“It’s just an offer!” Rodimus rushed to clarify. “It doesn’t have a secret motive or anything, I just want to help. Payback, you know. For your kindness.”   
  
Starscream’s lips formed a thin line. His optics darkened, and his field went still. In that moment, Rodimus began to realize why such fearful tales had been spun. There was something in his expression that spoke of the term ‘Deathbringer.’   
  
“Why did you come here?”   
  
Rodimus twitched at the aggressive question. “You already know why,” he said with a frown. “I wanted to challenge the Deathbringer.”   
  
Starscream’s jaw set, his words coming through clenched denta. “I meant, why did you want to challenge me? What are you trying to accomplish?”   
  
Rodimus leaned back against the wall of the spring, feeling as though Starscream was searching for a specific answer. “I want to prove myself.”   
  
“For what?”   
  
“Prove that I can be a warrior,” Rodimus blurted out, for no reason other than though this felt less like a friendly chat, and more like an interrogation. “I’m a Firebrand, you know. That means I’m an undecided, basically. My role in my clan hasn’t been determined yet.”   
  
Starscream waved a hand, dripping hot oil in all directions. “Yes, I’m aware of that.” He leaned forward, frown deepening. “So you trotted out here like a fool because you want to show how brave you are? How strong? Just why do you need to prove it? Shouldn’t that be obvious to your clan already?”   
  
It was like a dagger to the spark.   
  
Rodimus’ shoulders hunched. His face colored, and it had nothing to do with the heat. “It’s not,” he admitted. “Obvious, I mean. There’s nothing special about me. I’m average in every way. I don’t stand out. I’m a joke.” The last came out more bitterly than he expected, and he dialed down.   
  
He didn’t want to betray such weakness to Starscream.   
  
He shook his head and worked his intake. “A lot of mechs think I don’t have what it takes,” he said instead, his hands forming fists beneath the surface of the oil, where Starscream couldn’t see them. “But I know I do. I just needed a chance to prove it, to show them that I’m much better than they think. I can do it and I will. I just need a chance.”   
  
Silence.  
  
The weight of Starscream’s glare felt like the ridicule of his peers. It burned. And a shame he hadn’t known he could experience, crept in around the embarrassment. He’d interrupted Starscream’s life for a selfish agenda.   
  
Rodimus stood up and bowed his head. “I’m sorry,” he said as he stared hard at the rippling surface of the oil, a few specks of goo floating across the shimmering liquid. “My reasons were selfish, and I should have never come here. I’ll leave you in peace until the storm passes, and you’ll never have to see me again.”   
  
The thought made a sharp pang go through his spark, but it was no worse than the disdain that Starscream surely felt for him.   
  
He turned to go.   
  
“In retrospect, I could use some help.” The oil splashed as Starscream shifted. “With my back, to clarify.”   
  
Rodimus worked his intake and turned back toward Starscream. Was this forgiveness? He couldn’t read Starscream’s expression, as blank as it was, but the Seeker’s field was clearly neutral, as he showed Rodimus his back and twitched his wings.   
  
“You can see why I’d have difficulty reaching, yes?” Starscream added and held out a small scrub-brush. “Or did you rescind your offer?”   
  
“No!” Rodimus lurched forward, only for the heat to fill his cheeks again. “I mean, the offer is still there. I just didn’t think you were interested.”   
  
Starscream gave him a single look over his shoulder. “It’s not about interest.”   
  
“Right. Of course.” Rodimus worked his intake and took the scrubber, gently applying it to the seams of Starscream’s back, exceedingly careful around the hinges to his wings.   
  
He did his best to use a business-like approach, but he wasn’t blind. Starscream was attractive in every way, the curves of his frame, the sleek lines, the brightness of his colors. Any other situation, any other time, and Rodimus would have made a move on Starscream without needing an alternative motive.   
  
“I’m, uh, sorry your experiment exploded,” Rodimus said, in a desperate bid to distract himself and change the subject from Starscream’s tension earlier.   
  
The Seeker cycled a ventilation. “It’s not something you need to apologize for. The fault is mine.”   
  
“Still...” Rodimus shrugged and gently swiped the cloth over Starscream’s back, noticing every twitch and tremble of the Seeker’s wings. “I feel like if I hadn’t been there, it wouldn’t have happened.”   
  
“That may be true, but you were invited, so in the end, it’s still not your fault.” Starscream pulled away from him and turned, pulling the cloth from Rodimus’ now slack grip. “Thank you for the assistance. I can take it from here.”   
  
Rodimus nodded and backed several steps up. He rubbed at the back of his neck and dropped his other hand. “You’re welcome.”   
  
Starscream nodded and faced Rodimus as he started swiping the cloth over his arms and the front of his frame, face twisting into a moue of disgust as he worked at the sticky bits of goo still clinging to his armor. The tension in his field ebbed away, as did the taut nature of his armor.   
  
Maybe it was forgiveness.   
  
“Think I’ll head back to the Astronomy room if that’s okay?” Rodimus took another step back and toward the edge of the spring. “I also left a mess in the energon storage room. I’ll clean that up, too.”   
  
“You are welcome to any door that is unlocked for you. That has not changed,” Starscream replied as he focused on wiping down his frame, without sparing Rodimus another glance. “I will be in my laboratory for the rest of the afternoon. Please do not disturb me.”   
  
Rodimus climbed out and toweled off quickly, though Scuttle didn’t escape getting dripped on. “I promise I won’t.” He tossed the towel into the bin. “So, uh, have a good soak. And a good night.”   
  
Starscream made a noncommittal noise which Rodimus interpreted as agreement. He opted not to push his luck and left without another word, Scuttle hurrying to accompany him.   
  
Once out of Starscream’s audial range, Rodimus cycled a ventilation. He’d really fragged that up, hadn’t he? It shouldn’t even come as a surprise.   
  
Well, he’d be out of Starscream’s way soon enough. If the Seeker’s predictions were accurate, the storm would pass by the day after tomorrow, and Rodimus could leave, giving Starscream back his peace and quiet.   
  
Granted, Rodimus wasn’t returning to much, but he had no right to continue intruding on Starscream’s kindness. Besides, he had to go back and face it all, didn’t he? Get his answer, for better or worse, about which badge would be his.   
  
He had to go back. Rodimus belonged with his clan, in the settlement, even if he’d always felt otherwise. It was home. It had Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, Springer and Kup, his friends and family, his hopes.   
  
Rodimus didn’t belong here, in this tower of wonders, a distraction and a nuisance for Starscream. No matter what fleeting thoughts he might have had.   
  


****


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herein is where the fic starts to earn it's M-rating, so NSFW! ;)
> 
> I also wanna give a HUGE shout-out to TheAirCommand because without her constant support and brainstorming sessions and nudging me out of my rut, I'd still be stuck. :) This fic wouldn't exist without her.

Day six of their forced proximity dawned.   
  
Hot Rod continued on as he always did, probably with his nose buried in one of the datapads he’d pilfered from Starscream’s library. Or perhaps he was in the training room, going through one of the numerous kata the trainer-bot had taught him. Or on the window ledge carving the discarded metals. Or even in the Astronomy room, cycling through the skyscapes, his optics wide with wonder.   
  
Starscream was left with the silence of his tower, save for the whoosh and rattle of the raging duststorm. Well, less raging now. The intensity was easing. It seemed his calculations were accurate. His predictive software approached perfection.   
  
Hot Rod would be gone tomorrow. Starscream had run out of time.   
  
He cycled a ventilation. He settled down into his chair – comfortable, not the stool – and plugged the code reader into the medical port on his wrist. He waited, on bolts and brackets, for the read out, and nearly sobbed aloud when it came back to him.   
  
 _Coding degradation at fifty-eight percent._    
  
He could, possibly, survive until Deadlock’s return. Not conscious, perhaps. Autonomics would kick in, preserve his spark for a few more days until that coding degraded. But Deadlock’s return visits were never guaranteed. It was within a two week period. He could be early. He could be late.   
  
Did he dare risk it?   
  
It was too late to contact Skyfire. By now, his clan was on the other side of the Manganese Mountains, out of reach of Starscream’s communicators. And heading to the cities in his current state was a deathwish.  
  
Starscream removed the scanner and eyed the innocent device on his desktop. It was little more than a memory stick, and it contained a copy of the newest iteration of his substitute operating code. One he’d finished late last night, when he’d forced himself to stay online, working furiously to make up for allowing himself to be distracted. It was important. Necessary. Something that would save the spark of every Seeker on Cybertron if only he could get it to work.   
  
What did he have to lose by trying it now, save that miniscule chance Deadlock might show up early and spare him the embarrassment of begging the Firebrand for help?  
  
He couldn’t take the risk. He had to trust in himself and in his work. Or at least trust that he’d survive the test.   
  
Starscream cycled a ventilation and grasped the memory stick. He stared hard at it, his port twitching at his hesitation, and his processor spinning around the numbers.   
  
Fifty-eight percent. Fifty-eight percent. Fifty-eight percent. Fif--  
  
He inserted the stick and activated the coding software before he could convince himself to abort the process. He braced himself against the desk as dizziness made him sway. He felt the foreign code trickling through him, mingling with his own, bolstering and rewriting. It itched, like a rust infection he couldn’t reach.   
  
Starscream groaned. He flushed, felt hot all over, except for the chill deep in the pit of his tanks. His port ached. His processor spun into mighty circles.   
  
The upload finished.   
  
Starscream pulled out the memory stick with shaky fingers and set it aside. His vision wobbled. He couldn’t feel a difference, but the foreign code worked through him like hot slices of an energon blade. There was an… incompatibility. Rejection. The source code peered and disapproved.   
  
His tanks clenched. He clamped down on the need to purge.   
  
He plugged the scanner back into his port. He gripped the desk to keep himself upright, even though it felt as though his gyros were spinning. This… wasn’t right. He knew how it felt to have a coding boost from a willing donor. The surge of energy, of life, the unfurling of new data, new coding tricks. This was the complete opposite.   
  
The scanner beeped. It took Starscream a frightening amount of time to focus on the read out.   
  
 _Coding degradation at twenty-three percent._    
  
Damn it. Damn  _it_.   
  
Starscream threw the memory stick away. It clattered across the table before sliding off the other end and bouncing across the floor. It likely broke. Not that it mattered. It was useless now.   
  
The coding upload had failed. Again. And worse, this time it had further corrupted what coding he’d had.   
  
Starscream dug furrows into the desk with his talons. His vents came in sharper bursts.   
  
He had no choice now. None. If he wanted to live, if he wanted to survive, to continue, he would have to ask Hot Rod. He would have to bow his head and submit himself, like he hadn’t in centuries, to the whim of another mech.   
  
It was only his self-respect, he reasoned. He could claw his way back to it again. But oh, how it stung. Such a heavy price to pay.   
  
It had to be done.   
  


~

  
  
Rodimus rounded the corner, unable to decide if he was excited he could leave for home tomorrow, or disappointed that he would be returning a failure. Part of him wanted to linger, to spend more time here in this laboratory, with Starscream as waspish as he was, and yet sometimes charming, too.   
  
Said Seeker had spent the entirety of the day locked in his laboratory. He hadn’t even answered the door when Rodimus pinged it, hoping to lure him out with more treats. Rodimus had been left to entertain himself, which he had, but couldn’t shake the disappointment. He’d thought he and Starscream had become, well, not friends, but maybe they’d learned to respect one another. Tolerate one another? Come to an understanding?   
  
Something.   
  
Starscream had gone back to the cold distance so quickly. Rodimus had hoped that he could leave tomorrow feeling as though he’d made a friend at the very least. Beneath that bristly exterior, Starscream was fascinating, and lonely, if Rodimus had a guess, and Rodimus knew something about what it meant to feel alone.   
  
It was probably all Rodimus’ fault. He’d made too much of a nuisance of himself, and a distraction both. He’d caused Starscream’s experiment to fail yesterday, and that must have been the last grit in the gear.   
  
He sighed, scrubbed a hand down his face, and then froze when he realized he was no longer alone. Starscream loitered outside of the room he’d loaned to Rodimus. The Seeker leaned against the wall beside the door, his posture casual, but the rest of him less so as his armor was clamped tightly and his expression unreadable.   
  
Rodimus tilted his head. “Um, what’s going on?” He hadn’t broken anything, he was sure of it. Behind him, Scuttle bumped against his heel and chirped indignantly.   
  
“Well, Hot Rod, it seems I am going to grant your wish after all.”   
  
Rodimus cycled his optics and drew down his orbital ridges. “What do you mean?”  
  
Starscream pushed off the wall, dropping his arms from where they’d been folded across his chestplate. The motion seemed to draw the overhead lights toward his frame, highlighting paint that gleamed as though he’d been freshly waxed and polished.   
  
“You wanted to berth the Warlock,” Starscream said and rested a hand on his hip, frame angled as though to show off all his best features. “Here I am. But I want something from you in exchange.”   
  
Rodimus gnawed on the inside of his cheek. This was really weird and sudden, and he couldn’t help but notice how very twitchy Starscream was. The Seeker’s field, usually well contained, was all over the place, and pushing at Rodimus’ own.   
  
“What?” he said, maybe a little dumbly. Starscream wasn’t making any sense.   
  
Starscream sighed a ventilation, which he seemed to do a lot. “Must I spell it out for you?” He rubbed at his forehead. “You can frag me for whatever bragging rights your backward clan finds acceptable, and in exchange, I want to borrow your coding.”   
  
No. He still wasn’t making any sense.   
  
“You want to frag me,” Rodimus repeated slowly, and looked around for the cameras. Was Starscream recording this? Trying to humiliate him? “But you want me to let you copy my coding first?”   
  
“Look, it’s a simple exchange of favors, is it not?” Starscream demanded, his tone impatient. His wings twitched faster as the press of his field became more urgent.   
  
Rodimus shook his head. “I don’t understand. You’ve been turning me down since the solar cycle I woke up here. What changed?”   
  
“That’s none of your business!” Starscream snapped, and crossed his arms over his chestplate. “Are you going to take the deal or not?”   
  
It was Rodimus’ turn to fold his arms. “I don’t think only with my spike, you know.” He peered at Starscream, noticing the wan shade of the Seeker’s face and the tremble in his fingertips. “Is there something wrong with you?”   
  
Starscream’s ventilations stuttered, his lips curving downward in a frown. “You know nothing of Seekers, do you?”   
  
“Only the stories and I’ve learned that most of them are false now.” Rodimus shrugged. “There aren’t any in my clan. Never have been. Why would I know anything?” He peered at Starscream. “What am I missing?”   
  
Starscream stared at him for a long moment. He wavered on his feet and slipped back toward the wall, leaning against it. “Our coding deteriorates over time. Breaks down. Causes glitches. Instabilities and eventually...”   
  
“You die?” Rodimus’ optics flared with shock. “So wait. Is that why--”  
  
“Yes,” Starscream interrupted with a long ventilation. “We need unmarred coding to refresh our own. Like a temp patch on a wound.”   
  
Rodimus shook his head, his processor spinning. This was a lot to take in all at once. “But you’ve been living here alone. For years.”   
  
“I’ve had visitors,” Starscream said dryly. “I’m going to spare you the details because you aren’t owed them.” He dropped his hand and gave Rodimus a long look. “Have I satisfied your curiosity enough? Are we in agreement?”   
  
Rodimus reared back, his spark hammering in his chassis. “What? No!”   
  
“Why not? Is this not what you came here for?” Starscream actually looked insulted, his wings twitching faster. “Or am I too unappealing for you to bring yourself to activate your spike?”   
  
Rodimus shook his head so hard it left him a touch dizzy. All of the sudden his plating crawled, and he’d never been less aroused in his life. Somehow it just felt wrong. Wrong for Starscream to agree to ‘face with him only so he wouldn’t die. That wasn’t seduction. That wasn’t overcoming the odds to defeat or berth the Deathbringer himself.   
  
That was… well, it was just wrong.   
  
“Do we have to frag?” Rodimus asked.   
  
Starscream scoffed. “Apparently I am  _that_  unappealing.” He pushed off the wall again and turned down the hallway, away from Rodimus, but he stumbled in the midst of doing so.   
  
Rodimus chased after him and cut Starscream off, skidding to a halt in front of the Seeker. “That’s not what I meant!” he rushed to say and felt his face heat. “I just meant, you know, that you shouldn’t have to take my spike just to get something you need to live. You know?” He rubbed the back of his neck.   
  
There was no honor in it. There just wasn’t. He’d never live with himself if he accepted Starscream’s exchange. He’d never claim it as a victory. He’d always feel tainted by his own selfishness and dishonor.   
  
Starscream’s optics widened. His gaze flicked up and down Rodimus’ frame. “Wait,” he said. “What are you saying?”   
  
Rodimus dragged in a heavy vent. “You can copy my coding. You don’t have to frag me for it. I mean, not unless you have to be fragging me for it to work.” He rolled his shoulders in a shrug that was far from dismissive. “I just want to help.”   
  
Starscream stared at him. “Seriously?”   
  
“Yeah.” Rodimus swept his hand over his head, feeling like an idiot, the embarrassment burning in his cheeks. “I mean, it won’t hurt, will it?”   
  
Starscream shook his head. “No. Not at all. In fact from what I’ve witnessed and heard, it’s actually quite pleasurable.” His field evened out, turning warm and pliant. “It’s just data-sharing basically. A step up from med-cabling.”   
  
Rodimus cycled an unsteady ventilation. “Well, that doesn’t sound too bad. I can do that.” He offered Starscream a smile, though it was probably shaky. “That is if it’s okay with you.”   
  
“I wouldn’t have asked you if it wasn’t.”   
  
“Or if you didn’t have any other choice, right?” Rodimus asked.   
  
Starscream’s wings twitched. “There are times when one must choose between survival and dignity. I have always favored the former.”   
  
That was terribly sad to hear. Rodimus was at once even more glad that he’d chosen to help rather than take the opportunity for what it was.   
  
He nodded. “So, uh, if we do this, you’ll be able to read my coding, right?” he asked as he mentally reviewed all that he knew about cabled interfacing, which amounted to very little. It wasn’t common in his clan. Or by any of them. Not when so many clanlings attributed it code-stealing Seekers.   
  
“To an extent,” Starscream conceded. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I won’t be able to alter or affect it, however. The integrity of your own frame is safe.”   
  
Rodimus cycled a ventilation. “Then you’ll probably find out that I lied to you,” he said, and flinched as Starscream’s expression darkened. “Not about something big,” he hastily added. “Just, I told you my given name, not my chosen name.”   
  
Starscream blinked, his forehead drawing downward in confusion. “Why?”   
  
“Didn’t want you to know who I was. Not that it matters because you still don’t.” Rodimus laughed, though it was self-deprecating. “My name is actually Rodimus.”   
  
“Fair enough.” Starscream tilted his head, the fire in his optics dimming. “It’s hardly the worst lie I’ve ever heard.”   
  
“Yeah, but it’s never good to start off with dishonesty. I should have known better.” Rodimus coughed into his hand and shifted his weight. “So do you want to do this now or later or in your room or what?”   
  
Starscream’s lips curved in something like a smile, a real one, and wow, it was kind of nice. Pretty cute, too. They were so rare that Rodimus wished he could take a picture, just to remember it.   
  
“If you are amenable, I would accept your assistance now,” Starscream said as the tight clamp of his armor eased. “I fear I am running short on time.”   
  
Rodimus nodded. “Okay then. Um...” He pointed to his door. “Come on in. Well, it’s your room to start with but you know, we should go in.”  
  
He was nervous. He was babbling. He needed to stop before he looked like an even bigger idiot than he was.   
  
Starscream turned around without speaking and opened the door. Rodimus followed him inside, anxiety sending a low treble through his spark. Despite it all, Starscream was pretty much a stranger to him, and Rodimus had never crossed cables with anyone, not even his closest friends. Cable-crossing was miles above interfacing in terms of intimacy. The closest thing Rodimus could compare it to was shallow merging, and he’d never engaged in that either.   
  
Cheerful beeping attracted his attention. He looked down to see Scuttle surging ahead of him into the room, and two other drones milling around Starscream’s feet, bumping against his thrusters.   
  
Starscream must have heard them also, as he turned around and looked at the floor with a frown. “There is nothing for you to clean here. Back to your stations.” He made shooing motions at the three drones.   
  
Two flashed their lights at him and obeyed. They spun around Starscream in tight circles before changing course and zipping out the door.   
  
Scuttle, however, seemed to hunker down. It made an undignified blat noise, that Rodimus could only interpret as ‘frag you.’   
  
Starscream huffed and planted his hands on his hips. “None of that now,” he said with a sharp look. “Out you get!” He pointed to the door.   
  
The sound Scuttle then made surely was not polite.   
  
Starscream’s optics widened as though he’d been insulted. Rodimus tried his best not to laugh as he crouched.   
  
“Scuttle,” he said, careful to make his tone stern. “You heard Starscream. Out you get.”   
  
Scuttle wriggled in place before it rose up and beeped, more positively this time. It spun around and obediently went out the door.   
  
Starscream huffed. “Obstinate sparkling.”   
  
Rodimus chuckled and stood back up. “I think Scuttle’s cute,” he said. “Well, all of them are, but Scuttle especially.” He pressed the panel so that the door would close. Suddenly, the room felt a lot smaller.   
  
He turned around to face Starscream again, the Seeker giving him an odd look, as though he were trying to figure out a complicated equation.   
  
“So, uh, how do you want to do this?” Rodimus asked.  
  
Starscream hiked up onto the berth, his legs hanging over the edge. He looked at Rodimus, but there wasn’t as much confidence in his expression as Rodimus would have expected.   
  
“Whatever makes you comfortable,” he said with a shrug that felt like forced nonchalance. “We will need to be close, you understand.”   
  
“I trust you,” Rodimus said, and surprised himself with how much he didn’t hesitate at all. He hadn’t known Starscream very long, but apparently his instincts had decided it was long enough.   
  
Starscream’s smile broadened, even more sincere than before. “Then care to join me?” He patted the berth next to him as he pulled his frame further onto it, until he rested his back against the wall at the head of the berth.   
  
Rodimus climbed onto the berth, eying Starscream for a long moment before he decided to go with the flow and planted himself right in the Seeker’s lap. Starscream made a startled sound, his hands going to Rodimus’ hips, even as Rodimus scooted forward, his hands resting on Starscream’s shoulders.  
  
“We have to be close, right?” he asked with a cheeky wink.   
  
“You continue to surprise me, Firebrand.” Starscream’s hands gently patted his hips before they swept up to his waist, warm and present against his plating. “Where is your port array? Mine is located on my lower back, below my wing hinges.”   
  
“Well, that’s inconvenient,” Rodimus said with a laugh. He patted his left abdominal panel. “Mine’s here.”   
  
Starscream smirked. “Then it appears neither of us are standard.” His wings fluttered in what little space was allowed between him and the wall. “You understand I’ll need to connect to you, yes?”   
  
Rodimus nodded, and in a show of trust, went ahead and triggered his panel to open, shivering a little as the warm air wisped over his connectors. He’d never bared them to another before, and it was strange how he felt shy about it.   
  
“Shiny and new,” Starscream murmured as his gaze dropped down to Rodimus’ port. One of his hands swept inward, fingers flirting over the connectors.   
  
Rodimus shivered, a low thrill shooting through his frame at the light touch. His spark throbbed with need, his fans spinning up to low speed. That had felt good. Like Starscream had touched his anterior node cluster or rubbed his spike head.   
  
“Either you’ve never done this before or you take scrupulous care of your equipment,” Starscream commented, the tips of his fingers brushing over Rodimus’ connectors again.   
  
A low whine eeked out of Rodimus’ vocalizer. He arched toward Starscream, his ventilations stuttering.   
  
“Th-the former,” he stammered and felt his faceplate flush with heat. “Is it supposed to feel like that?”   
  
“Better,” Starscream replied.   
  
There was a distant click before Starscream’s hands faded away from his port array. Rodimus tried not to mourn their loss, even as he looked down to see Starscream awkwardly reaching behind himself.   
  
“Let me help,” Rodimus said, stirring himself into action.   
  
He leaned forward, slipping a hand behind Starscream, groping blindly for the Seeker’s cable array. He knew he’d found it when his fingers slid over connectors, and Starscream shivered, arching toward him. Taloned hands returned to his hips, squeezing gently. Starscream’s field bloomed with warmth and swelled over Rodimus’, tangling in all the edges of his and pulsing at him.   
  
Rodimus fumbled for several seconds more before he located the prongs of Starscream’s cables and was able to draw them free, one on each side of the Seeker’s chassis. They, unlike Rodimus’, reflected their frequent use. The metal of the prongs was a duller sheen, and the cables themselves were frayed.   
  
Nevertheless, Starscream shivered harder as Rodimus ran his thumbs over the prongs. He slowly unspooled the cables and drew them toward his own port array.  
  
“You’ll help me, right?” he asked as he struggled to look down at himself.   
  
Starscream’s hands closed over his, gentle as they took the cable-tips from his fingers. “Yes,” he said and added, “because as charming as it would be to watch you fumble, perhaps that is better saved for another time.”   
  
Rodimus flushed and felt the heat all the way to the tip of his finials. “Another time?”   
  
“If there is one,” Starscream amended and focused his attention on Rodimus’ port array, his optics a touch brighter than they had been before. “Are you certain you want to do this? I won’t blame you if you don’t.”   
  
Rodimus shook his head. He was glad Starscream was willing to give him an out, but he couldn’t do it. He could feel the hunger in Starscream’s field. The desperation, too. Starscream hadn’t lied when he said he needed this.   
  
He curled his fingers around Starscream’s wrists and tugged the Seeker’s hands closer to his port array. “I’m sure.”   
  
Rodimus shivered as the tip of Starscream’s connector nudged against his receiving port, and a light shock of charge danced between them. It was like a bolt of unexpected pleasure straight to his sensornet. His engine hummed, armor loosening as his uncertainty vanished.   
  
“Very well then.” Starscream’s field pushed at Rodimus’, warm and fluid as it coated Rodimus in appreciation and gratitude. “Here I go.”   
  
Rodimus braced himself, his hands sliding up Starscream’s arms, from his wrists to his shoulders. He could see very little beneath the rise of his chestplate, but the sensation was more than enough.   
  
The light touch of connector to port. The tiny nips of charge exchanging between the two. And then the quiet click as the first cable snapped home, which was then immediately followed by another click.   
  
Rodimus waited, unsure what to expect. At first there was nothing, just the sensation of his ports growing warm as Starscream’s connector nestled within them. Then he felt Starscream’s presence tapping at his firewalls, a polite request for permission.   
  
“You needn’t drop them entirely,” Starscream murmured as his hands slid to cupping Rodimus’ waist, his thumbs stroking over the flat of Rodimus’ abdomen. “Shallow permissions are enough.”   
  
Rodimus nodded, unable to trust his words. He allowed Starscream access and shivered as he felt the odd sensation of an alien presence sifting into his system. It crept in warmly, cautiously, as though taking great care not to harm.   
  
Then came the first pulse of charge. It drizzled into his port like a snap of static electricity and Rodimus twitched. Heat pooled low in his abdomen, sinking toward his array. His grip on Starscream’s shoulders tightened before he made himself let go.   
  
Another pulse of charge lit up his port array. It was a languid pulse, like an afterthought, yet it still set Rodimus’ internals ablaze with need.   
  
“Primus,” Rodimus moaned as his backstrut arched, his hands clawing the air before they curled around Starscream’s forearms. Pleasure licked through his lines like dipping into a hot oil bath, and his vents stuttered.   
  
Starscream’s fingers stroked a soothing path against his mid-section, his thumbs tracing the port housing. “See,” he murmured, his vocals rich and syrupy and dancing in Rodimus’ audials. “Not painful at all.”   
  
“The complete opposite,” Rodimus gasped as his hips moved of their own accord, rocking toward Starscream, his array throbbing with an unexpected need.   
  
More charge slithered into his port and while he dimly sensed the data transfer, it was secondary to the pleasure suffusing every inch of his frame. It was like Starscream was stroking him on the inside, featherlight touches that danced across every node and set his sensornet afire.  
  
Rodimus panted for oral ventilations, feeling as though he couldn’t seem to ventilate otherwise. He licked his lips, resisting the urge to free his equipment, his spike and valve both throbbing in hungry demand. His spark was equally intrigued, spinning faster and faster within his chamber.   
  
And still Starscream continued.   
  
His thumbs stroked Rodimus’ port housing, occasionally dipping inward to caress where they were joined, each light touch sending another jolt through Rodimus. The data transfer increased in speed, each pulse along the cable like a tap to Rodimus’ nodes. He twitched, his hands squeezing Starscream’s arms to the same beat as the data transfer.   
  
“Hnngh.” Rodimus moaned and his face heated as he did so. But he couldn’t help it. The pleasure was consuming him. “I think – I might – I’m gonna--” Not complete a sentence apparently, but his vocalizer kept stuttering, and it was hard to focus on anything beyond the throbbing of his frame.   
  
“It’s all right,” Starscream murmured. “It is quite common for mechs to overload. Do not hold back on my account.”   
  
Rodimus struggled to lift his head, and barely managed a sheepish grin. “H-holding back… isn’t an option,” he struggled to say before another shudder danced down his spinal strut and his valve clenched on nothing.   
  
He hoped he wasn’t leaving a mess on Starscream’s lap. It was all he could do to keep his panels closed, even as his spike throbbed in its housing, and his valve cycled faster and faster.   
  
He hung his head, unable to keep it up any longer. His optics shuttered, vents coming sharper. Thoughts and awareness turned inward, to the hot and languid pulses of data, as Starscream fed off his coding.   
  
Dimly, he realized that Starscream trembled beneath him, that he was no less affected by the transfer. Only, he was better used to it, and maintained better control. Yet, his frame exuded heat, and charge crackled in his seams, and his field caressed Rodimus’ like a lover might. His vents, too, came in faster bursts, his frame moving beneath Rodimus’ in little shifts and twitches.   
  
It was actually pretty hot.   
  
Rodimus lifted his gaze and drank in the sight of Starscream’s face flushed, his optics brighter if not unfocused. Starscream was nibbling on his bottom lip, his wings twitching behind him. Yet, he trembled as he held back, his vents fluttering and the turbines on his chest spinning a little.   
  
Rodimus wanted to kiss him suddenly. Wanted to press his lips to those swollen ones and taste Starscream’s surprise with his glossa. He wanted to scoot forward, drop his aching valve on Starscream’s spike, and drown in pleasure. He wanted to ride Starscream while they were still connected until he couldn’t see straight.   
  
He wanted…  
  
Rodimus’ hands tightened on Starscream’s arms and he prayed he didn’t dent the armor with his fingertips. His backstrut arched again, hips rolling forward, the heat coiling tighter and tighter in his abdomen.   
  
“I am almost done,” Starscream murmured, but it sounded like it came from a distance, a buzz in Rodimus’ audials.   
  
If he’d had the energy to spare for it, he would have chuckled, would’ve remarked with something cheeky like “so am I.” But all the processing power he had left was focused on pleasure, on the tiniest pull of Starscream’s presence in his systems, slurping up a copy of his code as though it were the finest of engex.   
  
Each tug felt like a stroke to his spike. Each trickle of charge was a lick to his anterior node. Each careful sweep of Starscream’s fingers was a caress to his sensor net.   
  
Rodimus moaned again, something staticky and broken, and lost his fight with gravity. He sank fully into Starscream’s lap, hips moving of their own accord. He arched, again and again, rocking toward Starscream’s chassis in mimicry of interfacing, while his array pulsed and pounded behind the locks he’d set up to keep his panels closed.   
  
Need tightened and tightened within him, like a wound spring, until it abruptly burst. Rodimus threw his head back, gasping out a ridiculous sound as he overloaded, pleasure pounding through his lines with all the force of a sandstorm. It whirled around him, swept him up, sent him spinning through space.   
  
Rodimus came back to himself ventilating unevenly, his chassis lurched forward and resting against Starscream’s chestplate. His head was pillowed on one of Starscream’s shoulders, his hands clutching Starscream’s hips. Little jolts of charge radiated through his frame, making him shiver.   
  
Despite it all, he felt good. Sated. Languid. Like he could recharge right here and now. He nuzzled into Starscream’s intake as the dimmest sense of connection still buzzed between them.   
  
Starscream was petting his back. Short, soft strokes of his palms down Rodimus’ armor. His engine purred softly. The cables hung limp between them.   
  
Rodimus mumbled something that might have been words. He heard Starscream chuckle, the amusement rumbling within the Seeker’s chassis.   
  
“Welcome back,” he said.   
  
Rodimus groaned and forced himself to sit back up, though it made the cables pull between them, giving a light tug on his port array. It was enough to make him shiver, his backstrut tingling.   
  
“That was intense,” Rodimus said as he reached down, fingers brushing his array, exploring where cable met port, resulting in another warm shiver. “Is it always like that?”   
  
“It depends on the mech. And how often you participate,” Starscream replied. His vocals were light, careful. As though he were afraid of Rodimus’ reaction. “Here. I’ll disconnect myself.”   
  
Rodimus shook his head. That wasn’t what he was trying to imply at all, but the words wouldn’t come, his thoughts far too fuzzy. Starscream disconnected before Rodimus could get them out. The loss of his datastream, however much of a trickle it had become, was dizzying, and Rodimus swayed in Starscream’s lap.   
  
He grasped Starscream’s shoulders, and cycled a long, slow ventilation until the dizziness faded, leaving nothing but sated exhaustion in its wake. Primus, what he wouldn’t give for a soak in the oil bath, a cube of midgrade, and to fall into recharge here in this berth.   
  
“Are you well?”   
  
“Well enough that I so wouldn’t mind doing that again,” Rodimus admitted with a little laugh.   
  
He squirmed on Starscream’s lap, feeling the mess behind his panels. He couldn’t believe he’d overloaded without so much as a touch to his spike or valve. That was incredible.   
  
Starscream quietly retracted his cables. “I’m relieved I haven’t scarred you for life,” he said wryly.   
  
“Far from it.” Rodimus palmed his port array closed. “If anything, you’ve given me something new to do in the future.”   
  
Starscream genuinely laughed. “Hedonist,” he said, and gave a little squeeze to Rodimus’ hips. “Now if you don’t mind, my wings are cramped, and I’m in need of energon and recharge.”   
  
“I am, too,” Rodimus admitted and shifted his weight to the side, letting Starscream scoot out from beneath him.   
  
Primus, he was exhausted. Maybe he’d skip the energon and go straight to berth and worry about the rest later. He’d felt like he’d engaged in a night of marathon interfacing, not a single instance of cable-swapping. It was the good kind of exhausted, but still!  
  
Starscream slid off the berth, and Rodimus stretched across the space he abandoned, sinking onto his front with an exhausted huff. He felt wrung dry and worn out, and recharge sounded really, really good right now.   
  
“What happened to wanting energon?” Starscream asked, sounding amused.   
  
Rodimus groped for the nearest pillow and tucked it under his head, folding his arms beneath it. “Maybe later,” he mumbled, rubbing his face against the softly woven mesh. “’M tired.”   
  
Starscream chuckled again. “That is not uncommon.” A hand rested on Rodimus’ shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Recharge as you will. I’ll leave some energon on the table for you.”   
  
“Thanks.”   
  
“It is I who should be thanking you.” Starscream’s field brushed up against his, warm with gratitude.   
  
“Pfft.” Rodimus turned his head, peering at Starscream through slitted optics as the Seeker headed toward the door. “You kind of saved my spark, so I guess that just makes us even, right?”   
  
Starscream paused at the door, and he turned back to look at Rodimus. He couldn’t read the Seeker’s expression, but Starscream’s lips did curve into the smallest of smiles.   
  
“Yes, I suppose it does,” he said and dipped his head in a nod. “Recharge well, Rodimus.”   
  
“You, too.”   
  
The door clicked shut behind Starscream, and Rodimus wriggled to get more comfortable on the berth. His entire frame still thrummed from the aftermath of his overload, but it was the good kind of hum. A satisfied kind of hum.   
  
His engine purred, and he squeezed the pillow beneath him.   
  
A part of him wished he didn’t have to leave in the morning. He wouldn’t mind trying that again, but more than that, he felt he’d really built something here. A friendship, or more perhaps. Something he was now loathe to lose.   
  
Rodimus sighed and offlined his optics.   
  
No point ruminating on impossibilities.   
  


***


	7. Chapter 7

Starscream’s first order of business was to run a diagnostic, not that he needed an external scanner to tell him what his systems were already reporting – his coding degradation had not only stalled, it was reversing itself. By morning, he’d be back to one-hundred percent capacity, all of his systems running smoothly, and no longer at risk of losing spark containment.   
  
Rodimus’ coding had even contained some perks. Better efficiency at processing fuel during speed bursts, accuracy in aiming, and an intense craving for rust sticks.   
  
Starscream shook his head with a chuckle. Brat liked the sweet things. Why was he not surprised?   
  
The scanner beeped at him, displaying results that were no less than Starscream expected. Rodimus’ code was, while not pristine, so far removed from his own that it was as much boon as it was a saving grace. Starscream suspected that it might even be of use in forming the substitute code for his experiments.   
  
How lucky he was to find Rodimus on his backstep.   
  
It was almost a shame the Firebrand had to leave in the morning. He was a pain in the aft. A nosy one, who seemed to always be there when Starscream turned around, and clumsy on top of it all. Earnest and determined, with a passion for learning unlike any Starscream had seen in quite some time.   
  
He’d offered his coding to Starscream without asking for anything in return. He’d offered it, despite being taught that Seekers were evil code-stealers and that he should be afraid.   
  
There was a spark of platinum beneath that garishly flame-painted chestplate, apparently. A charming one, too.   
  
Starscream sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. Best not to dwell on it. Rodimus would leave in the morning, as he well should, and Starscream could go back to his peace and quiet. To his studies and his experiments and his desperate hope for a solution.   
  
He’d come out here to the edge of the Barrens for a reason, after all, and constant companionship was not one of them. He worked better alone, without distractions. He was absolutely not lonely. He had the occasional visitor and that was enough.   
  
Besides, it wasn’t as if Rodimus wanted to stay anyway.   
  
Starscream harrumphed and disconnected the scanner, setting it gently on his work bench.   
  
Refreshed coding or not, he was still exhausted. While his frame hummed from the upload and the cabling – he’d overloaded after all, though not quite as vividly as Rodimus had – Starscream still felt the tug of recharge. That and energon.   
  
He would fetch a cube for himself, leave a cube for Rodimus – perhaps with a handful of rust sticks, and then sink into his own berth.   
  
Come morning, he would bid Rodimus farewell.   
  
After all, he had work to do.   
  


~

  
  
Rodimus onlined, his engine purring, his frame thrumming, and a sense of satisfaction pulsing through every line and cable. He rolled over onto his back with a little engine rumble of happiness, his spoiler twitching.   
  
He felt, well, he felt like he’d had a whole night of wild interfacing with overload upon overload. He shoved a hand down his frame, groping at his interface array, but found himself to be dry and clean.   
  
That was odd.   
  
Rodimus’ optics unshuttered, his vision slowly clarifying in the brightness of his room. Memories returned, albeit slowly, and his faceplate burned as he remembered just why he felt so darn good.   
  
Starscream and cabling, an overload that had nothing to do with his array, and the unique sensation of being connected to another mech.   
  
Rodimus sat up, stretching his arms over his helm, feeling well-rested all the way to his core. Well, except for his tanks, which were pinging him for a refuel. And look at that, there was a cube on the nightstand, capped to ensure freshness.   
  
He swung his legs over the side of the berth and snagged the cube. He popped the seal and gave it a whiff.   
  
Sweet with a hint of tang. His favorite.   
  
Rodimus grinned and slurped it all down, the energon settling into his tanks with a happy burst. He felt more than a little spoiled actually. Too bad he would have to leave. It was kind of nice being here. It was quiet. There weren’t any heavy expectations on his shoulders.   
  
He didn’t belong here, and he highly doubted Starscream would want him to stay. The Seeker seemed to tolerate his presence at best. Rodimus was nothing more than an intruder, as he always seemed to be wherever he went.   
  
It was time he left Starscream to his work.   
  
Rodimus finished the cube and hopped off the berth. He surveyed the room that had been his for a little under two weeks. He would make for a poor guest if he left it a mess, so he tidied it up as best he was capable. He stripped the berth and changed the covers, remembering well the cleaning facilities. He gathered detritus and straightened up the furniture, but there was honestly little to show for how long he’d been there.   
  
It occurred him that he’d need his energon bow and other belongings back.   
  
Rodimus moved to the narrow window, peering out into the morning. The world looked different through the shifting opalescence of Starscream’s holographic generator, but it was enough that he could see the sandstorm had passed. The land beyond was wiped clean, as it often was in the wake of a storm, smooth and untouched.   
  
He’d leave footprints behind him. He couldn’t drive, the road was far too buried. But the long walk would give him plenty of time to think of a story, he supposed.   
  
Rodimus rubbed his face and turned away from the window. The sooner he got started, the less camping he’d have to do. He was only three solar cycles out from home, but there were many hungry mechanimals who would be roaming freely now that the storm had passed. Rodimus didn’t want to run into a single one of them.   
  
He looked around the room once more, to ensure he left nothing behind, and then keyed his door open. It slid aside with a merry beep, and Rodimus stepped into the corridor, nearly colliding with Starscream in the process. The Seeker responded quicker, his hands landing on Rodimus’ shoulders to keep them from colliding.   
  
“You are awful energetic this morning,” Rodimus said as his spark thumped and his armor turned warm where Starscream touched him.   
  
The Seeker gave him a wry smile. “Yes, well, that is in part thanks to you. My coding degradation has halted, and I’m nearly at one-hundred percent capacity now.” His hands slid free, tucking behind his back and beneath his wing hinges. “My thanks.” He dipped his head.   
  
Rodimus rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, like I said, it’s only fair, right? You saved my life, so I save yours.” His finials heated. “And it’s not like I didn’t enjoy it.”   
  
Starscream chuckled. “I am relieved that you did.” His smile dipped as his gaze slid past Rodimus, to the window at the end of the hall. “The storm has passed.”   
  
“Yeah, I noticed.”   
  
“You will be leaving then.”   
  
Rodimus honestly couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a question. “I’d better,” he said, awkwardly shifting his weight. “My brother is probably looking for me, and my trainer has no doubt concocted all kinds of punishments.”   
  
“I assumed as much. I brought your belongings to the door.”   
  
Wow. In a hurry to be rid of him much? Any thoughts Rodimus had in thinking Starscream wanted him to stay turned to ash.   
  
“Uh, thanks for that,” Rodimus said. He stepped out into the hallway and turned in a slow circle. This was usually the time Scuttle ambushed him, chirping merrily as he spun around Rodimus’ feet.   
  
The drone was nowhere in sight. Odd.   
  
“Hey, have you seen Scuttle?” he asked.   
  
Starscream could have been a statue, for all the emotion his frame language gave away. “All of the cleaning drones are in their recharge stations at the moment.”   
  
“Oh.” Disappointment slumped his shoulders. Rodimus scratched at his chin. He supposed it was silly to want to say goodbye to a cleaning drone. “That’s good, I guess.”   
  
“It can be,” Starscream said and spun on a heelstrut. Rodimus assumed he was meant to follow. So he did, though disappointment rang strongly through him. He kept it from his field however. No need to let Starscream know the truth.   
  
“I packed supplies for you, energon and the like,” Starscream said as they stepped into the lift. “Also the bits of the turbowolves I have no use for. I assume your clan can find something for them.”   
  
“Yeah, we can. Thanks.”   
  
The lift donged as it deposited them on the ground floor, doors rumbling open. Starscream departed swiftly, leading Rodimus to a set of heavy double doors which Rodimus had passed multiple times. He’d inspected them once, noting several layers of protection as well as a very complicated lock.   
  
There was a familiar satchel on the floor and a second one next to it, with his deactivated energon bow propped up on the wall beside him. Starscream wasn’t lying when he’d said he’d prepared everything for Rodimus’ departure.   
  
Starscream bent at the waist to lift both satchels before he offered them to Rodimus. “Keep the other,” he said.   
  
Rodimus accepted the heavy bags, slinging the strap of one over his shoulder. “Are you sure?”   
  
“It was left here by another temporary visitor. I have no attachment to it,” Starscream replied, his face smooth of emotion, and his field equally flat. “It is yours.”   
  
No attachment, huh? Just like he’d apparently avoided managing any such thing for Rodimus, too. He must have imagined those moments.   
  
Rodimus’ hand tightened around the strap. “Thanks,” he said, a word he felt like he kept repeating because he didn’t know what else to say. Words danced on his glossa, but Starscream’s demeanor killed each and every one. “You know, you keep giving me a lot of gifts, and you don’t have to.”   
  
“No, I do. I don’t think you understand how much you saved me.” Starscream’s optics widened as though the admission had been an accident. His wings twitched, and he stepped to the door, putting his hand on the field-scanner panel. “This is the least I can do.”   
  
The door whooshed open, a blast of hot, dry air slamming Rodimus in the face. He winced, his lens shutters automatically slamming down to protect his optics. The urge to stay, to go back to his comfy berth and the private oil bath and all the interesting doodads made his legs wobble.  
  
“If you are ever out this way again...”   
  
“Use the front door next time?” Rodimus quipped as he moved toward the door, pausing in the threshold to look back at Starscream. He grinned, though it wobbled on the edges.   
  
Starscream lifted his chin. “I was going to say ‘don’t be a stranger’ but yes, use the front door. I don’t want another spark-attack.”   
  
“Sir, yes, sir.” Rodimus tossed off a sloppy salute and an even sloppier grin. “Thanks for the hospitality, Star. Good luck with your experiments.”   
  
“And you, too.” Starscream paused, as though hesitating before he shook his head. “Goodbye, Firebrand.”   
  
That, as Springer would say, was that. Was there anything as definitive as a ‘goodbye’?  
  
Rodimus’ spark gave a wavering warble, and before he could let it affect his field, he stepped out of the frame, the door immediately shutting behind him. He heard it click and lock.   
  
Rodimus cycled a ventilation as heat instantly swallowed him. He slung off the pack and dug around in it, producing the tarp he’d first left his clan with. He draped the tarp over his shoulders before he made his way out.   
  
The holographic array was not solid-state. He passed through it easily enough. When he turned back to look, he didn’t see Starscream’s squat, but neat little complex. He saw a sheer cliff, impossible to climb, and the ground around it pockmarked with holes. Sandviper holes.   
  
No mech in their right mind would get near those.   
  
Starscream had hid his home well.   
  
Rodimus sighed and adjusted the pack over his shoulder.   
  
Time go to home, he supposed.   
  
After all, it was where he belonged.   
  


~

  
  
The door closed with a defining  _thunk_ , and Starscream sighed. He leaned against it, shuttering his optics to the sound of the locks sliding into place, each louder and stronger than the last.   
  
His spark ached.   
  
Starscream told himself it was because the last of the coding was settling into place, finding a home in his core script. He always ached in the aftermath of a new download, especially with a partner he’d never data-faced with before.   
  
The last of the locks thudded into place, and Starscream was left with the silence. Not even the roar of the sandstorm remained to break it up. With the drones all on their recharge platforms, except Saunter who scuttled along the skylight, it was quiet in his tower. A silence that wrapped around him, and swallowed him whole.   
  
He used to prefer the quiet. Now he found it too loud for comfort.   
  
He missed Deadlock. That’s all it was.   
  
Starscream unshuttered his optics and pushed off the door. He took the long way toward his laboratory, where he should have spent the entirety of the week, if only he hadn’t been distracted.   
  
It was for the best. This was the way things were meant to be. He had to get back to work, to live in the solitude he demanded, for the betterment of himself and his kind.  
  
He’d never needed company before. One charming Firebrand certainly wasn’t going to change that.   
  
Not now. Not ever.  
  


****


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this update brought to you early courtesy of all the feels OP#09 jammed into me and the relief I need. XD
> 
> Enjoy!

Rodimus returned home to no fanfare, not that he expected any. And it might have had something to do with the fact he’d crept into the room he shared with his brother in the middle of the night. Or maybe no one noticed he’d gone missing.   
  
It was kind of insulting.   
  
Springer was deep in recharge when Rodimus pulled himself through the window, bag first, and slipped into their shared room. On his back, limbs splayed in all directions, Springer snored and his vents rattled.   
  
And yet he was the one better suited to be a warrior.   
  
Rodimus shook his head.   
  
He shoved his pack under his berth and sat on the edge, peering through the darkness at a room that was both familiar and alien to him. It was barely bigger than the one Starscream had given him, and cluttered with both his and Springer’s various belongings. Smelled different, too. Dank and a bit musty, with the reek of old ammunition and whetstone oil clinging to the air.   
  
He’d been gone for two weeks. It felt like longer.   
  
Rodimus shifted back and reclined on the berth, folding his arms behind his head. The berth was lumpy, compared to the comfort Starscream had offered him. The room was noisy and stuffy, and he half-expected to hear the soft brushing noises of Scuttle roaming around the floor before finding a good spot to stand sentry.   
  
He missed the sounds of the sandstorm grating against the glass dome. Which was ridiculous. He’d only been there a week. How could he miss it?   
  
Rodimus offlined his optics. He was home now, and in time for the Festival. That was what he had wanted, right? Well, aside from earning his badge and taking his rightful place in the Warchief’s ranks. He doubted that was going to happen now.   
  
Rodimus ex-vented a soft sigh. Nothing to do but face everyone tomorrow, and he’d be much better off if he rested first.   
  
That is, if he could sleep through Springer’s  _snoring_.   
  


~

  
  
Rodimus didn’t think he’d actually slip into recharge, but he must have, because he was startled online the next morning to someone shaking him, almost violently.   
  
“Where have you been, you idiot?”   
  
His processor rattled around inside his head. Rodimus groaned, batting at the hands on his shoulders, his vision fuzzy and his hearing distorted.   
  
“Getoffmerightnow,” he mumbled as he rebooted his sensory suites.   
  
“Get off me, he says. Get off me. Like he hasn’t been missing for two weeks!” Springer’s familiar baritone growled above him, hands giving Rodimus’ shoulders another firm shake. “Get up, brat! Come sneaking in here in the middle of the night like no one’s going to notice! I oughta slap some sense into you!”   
  
Rodimus’ optics rebooted and clarified into Springer’s face, leaning over him, expression a pinched mix of worry and relief and agitation. “I’m awake,” Rodimus grumbled and shoved at Springer’s arms again. “Primus! I’m awake. Back off already.”   
  
Springer stepped back, and Rodimus sat up, rubbing a hand over his head. He must have been totally out, because he felt woozy and disconnected. He peered at his brother, who looked to be settling into a fine grump as he folded his arms over his chassis and glared. Blue optics – Allspark blue, many whispered – were bright with fury.   
  
“Where have you been?” Springer demanded.   
  
“Out.” Rodimus waved vaguely toward the desert. Flippant, he decided, was the way to go. Everyone already thought him an idiot. Might as well let them continue.   
  
Springer’s optics narrowed. “Tell me you didn’t go looking for the Deathbringer.”   
  
“But then I’d be lying, dear brother.” Rodimus flashed a grin full of denta and slid off the berth, stretching his arms over his head. “Besides, you’re the one who told me it was my best chance.” Well, him and Silverspire both.   
  
“I didn’t mean it!”   
  
“Then why tell me?”   
  
“So you’d stop being an idiot!”   
  
Rodimus cut his optics, huffing angrily. “And look how good that turned out.” He dropped his arms and glared. “Nice to know you wanted me to fail. Congratulations. Because I did.”   
  
Springer reared back, and the pity on his face was almost too much for Rodimus to bear. “I didn’t want you to fail,” he said, softer than before. “I just wanted you to realize what your true strength is.”   
  
Rodimus snorted. “My true strength. Right.” He folded his arms over his chassis, suddenly feeling cold, despite the sweltering heat of their room. The forges were on the other side of the main wall after all.   
  
Hands landed on his shoulders, hot and heavy, and Springer’s shadow fell over him, though it wasn’t intimidating. “I’m glad you’re back,” Springer said. “And that you’re safe. What happened?”   
  
Rodimus shrugged dully. “I got lost. Had to hide in some caves because of the sandstorm.” He dropped his gaze, shame canting into his field. “Never even found the Warlock. Came back because I ran out of rations and charge for my bow.”   
  
He didn’t even feel guilty about lying. No one needed to know about Starscream, how he’d spent a week with the Seeker, how Starscream actually wasn’t that frightening or dangerous. He didn’t want to risk interrupting Starscream’s privacy, or for more Firebrands to journey into the desert in hopes of braving the Seeker’s wrath.   
  
Starscream deserved his privacy.   
  
“We were worried, you know. Sunstreaker’s even out right now. Looking for you,” Springer said with a squeeze to Rodimus’ shoulders before he drew back, like he was embarrassed for the show of affection. He rubbed the back of his head, faceplate darkening. “Gave all of us an audial-ful, too. Still can’t believe the Warchief let him get away with it.”   
  
Rodimus’ lips twitched toward a smile. “You know as much as I do who really holds the reins in that bonding.” And it certainly wasn’t their Warchief. The hierarchy firmly went Sunstreaker, then Sideswipe, and then Megatron.   
  
But that was a clan-wide secret. Megatron was still their Warchief, co-leader with their Prime, Optimus. But when it came to his bonds, and their berth, Megatron submitted and quite gladly.   
  
Not that Rodimus could blame him. He’d been in the Twins’ berth before. On bended knee was the best place to be when it came to those two. Especially Sunstreaker. One word from Sunstreaker and the only thing Rodimus could ever think about was dropping to his knees and worshiping the ground Sunstreaker stood on.   
  
Springer snickered. “You’re right about that.” He tilted his head and peered at Rodimus. “You sure you’re okay?” His field gingerly reached out, poking at Rodimus’ own as though seeking the truth and trying to gauge his health.   
  
“Why wouldn’t I be? Other than getting lost in the desert I mean.” Rodimus chuckled and brushed at his armor, only belatedly realizing that reality didn’t quite match his lie.   
  
He was absurdly clean for someone who reportedly had been lost in the wilds for two weeks. And Springer had to have noticed the dullness of recently repaired plating on his midsection. But he wasn’t commenting on it.   
  
Springer’s optics narrowed. “No reason.” He dropped his hand and straightened. “Anyway, hope you’re ready for an interrogation. Kup’s been spitting nails since you’ve been gone.”   
  
Rodimus groaned. “Great.” He moved past his brother toward the door, though with reluctance dogging every step. “He’s going to have me on cleaning duty for a month.”   
  
“Or two.” Springer laughed as he pushed Rodimus out the door. Digging in his heels didn’t help at all. Springer would forever be bigger and stronger than him.   
  
Might as well face his doom. He couldn’t avoid it forever.   
  


~

  
  
Rodimus left, and Starscream set about to cleaning, gathering up all evidence that the Firebrand had ever been there at all. He couldn’t do anything about the memories. Perhaps the coding degradation would consume those in time. For now, best to forget. Best to move on.   
  
Rodimus hadn’t stayed. Then again, no one ever did. Starscream liked it that way. He liked his solitude, his peace and quiet. He functioned better in it. He hypothesized smarter.   
  
He could focus. He would find the cure. He would.   
  
He tidied up the room he had loaned to Rodimus for the week, stripping the berth of its cover, putting away what few items had wandered out of their drawers and onto shelves. He opened the window for a gust of fresh air, which brought with it a few swirls of sand. He emptied the trash bin of dirtied static bandages.   
  
There was a quiet, confused beep behind him.   
  
Starscream turned to look as the drone Rodimus had named Scuttle came into the room, slow and cautious, as though searching. It roamed the perimeter before coming to Starscream’s feet. It bumped into the tip of his foot and warbled a low, long note.   
  
“He’s gone,” Starscream said curtly. “I told you, he’s not part of the tower.”   
  
Scuttle bumped his foot again.   
  
“He’s not coming back. Return to your duty,” Starscream said, and ignored the crackle of static in his vocalizer.   
  
Scuttle repeated the long, low note before slowly spinning away. It dragged its frame across the floor, vacuuming up the little mess Rodimus left behind. If it was possible for a drone to be disconsolate, Scuttle certainly resembled the emotion.   
  
Starscream sighed. He went back to cleaning.   
  
He found scraps of plexifilm tucked beneath a pillow, charming little doodles scrawled across their surface. Swirls and whorls and geometric shapes with shading and cross-hatching. It was nonsensical.   
  
He couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. He tucked them into his subspace instead. When he left, Scuttle didn’t follow him. The drone continued to lurk around the room, and Starscream left it be.   
  
Sometimes, it took time to let things go.   
  
Starscream went into the energon prep room and put away all the clean dishes Rodimus had used in his culinary endeavors. At least he’d had the decency to clean up after himself. And well, the treats had been nice.   
  
He found a tray of them tucked into the stasis unit which would keep them fresh until he decided to pull them out and consume them. They seemed to be a mix of flavors and consistencies, from crunches to jellies.   
  
Rodimus had been quite busy in his final hours, hadn’t he?   
  
Starscream took a few but left the rest. They were stable as long as they remained in the stasis unit. He could eat them at his leisure. Make them last. He should have asked Rodimus to teach him how to make them, or at least provide the recipe.  
  
Too late for that now.   
  
Starscream moved up another level, to the windowseat, for a moment stopping to admire the view. Without the sandstorm to obscure everything, he could see for kilometers, until the horizon melted together, a blur of rust-orange and sky-silver. Somewhere, beyond that wavering line, was where Rodimus’ clan had settled.   
  
Starscream sighed and gathered up the small stack of datapads Rodimus had left behind. Something clattered from the stack and tumbled to the floor.   
  
He blinked and looked down. Two metallic objects glinted up at him. Starscream crouched and gathered them up, these two things that fit in the palm of his hand and were barely bigger than his thumb, though twice as wide.   
  
One was a small ground transport vehicle – meant for speed, not unlike Blurr’s non-competing alt-mode. It had a spoiler and thinly etched flames racing up the hood. It had been carved of copper.   
  
The other was a jet, or an approximation of one, not unlike Starscream’s alt-mode, though some of the details were off. It had been made of silver.   
  
 _I like to make things when I’m bored._    
  
“Clever mech,” Starscream murmured.   
  
He tucked the carvings into his subspace with the doodles.   
  
He moved on, the silence of the tower less so now that the drones were disembarking from their recharge stations. Never was he so glad that he’d constructed so many of them, in moments of boredom, of need, or when he lacked the inspiration for his projects.   
  
Scurry and Scamper were back to patrolling the halls. Saunter was still on the skylight. Starscream was glad he’d thought to upgrade the drone with a sunpowered battery. Scoot greeted him with a cheerful trio of tones as Starscream slipped into the library with his armful of datapads.   
  
Starscream straightened up the shelves, returning datapads to their respective places, snorting a little to himself. Rodimus had voraciously read nearly every fantasy novel and fairy tale in Starscream’s collection. He’d started and stopped a few of the elementary chemistry books as well, but those hadn’t held his attention apparently.   
  
He found more of the plexifilm doodles in the library as well, tucked into the folds of the chair-coverings and pressed between stacks of datapads. There were faces on these, faces Starscream didn’t recognize but were probably members of Rodimus’ clan.   
  
He recognized cartoonish sketches of alt-modes, half-sparked efforts at drawing the turbowolves, and a few iterations of himself as well. The sight of them gave him a sharp pang in the spark.   
  
Brat had only been here a week, but somehow managed to leave a little of himself everywhere apparently.   
  
Last, Starscream ventured down to the oilbath and single-stall washrack, gathering up soiled meshcloths and returning bottles of cleanser to the shelves. He found two more little carvings tucked in a nook around the oil bath, both of them turbofoxes, albeit crude copies of them.   
  
As he opened the washing machine, Stroll ambled out of the washing station and bumped against the tips of his feet. Starscream scowled down at his slowest and laziest drone.   
  
“Haven’t seen you all week,” he scolded as Stroll inched across the ground, painstakingly slow as it started to clean the dripped oil from the stone. “The others have been picking up your slack. Were you hiding in here?”   
  
Stroll honked at him. Lights around its chassis flared and darkened in a slow roll.   
  
Starscream sighed and rolled his optics. He dumped the soiled cloths into the machine and set the automatic cycle. “If you’re not careful, I’ll deconstruct you for parts.”   
  
Not even the threat of deconstruction made Stroll move any faster. If anything, the drone slowed down even further, inching along the set path Starscream had programmed ages ago. At this rate, it would be next year before he cleaned the whole floor once.   
  
Starscream made a mental note to send Stride down here to assist. Again. It wasn’t like the Astronomy room got that dusty anyhow.   
  
His tower clean and tidied, Starscream retreated back to his laboratory. He emptied his subspace into an empty drawer at his main workstation. Carvings rattled around with sheets of plexifilm, which crinkled noisily. Starscream stared at them, gnawing on the inside of his cheek, internally debating.   
  
He reached down, pulled out the carved jet, and set it on his desk, near his stylus holder. He closed the drawer and grabbed the nearest datapad, bringing up the workable copy of the last coding attempt. He would need to see if he could tweak it, or if it was better to scrap it and start from scratch.   
  
His tower was quiet, save for the barely audible hum of all of his electronics. His tower was still, as he was the only resident within. Not even the sound of his drones in action was enough to be considered movement or noise, despite Skip and Scrape studiously scrubbing the floor around him.   
  
He could focus now. He had no distractions. He could get back to work. He could make progress. He could devise a cure. He was alone as he needed to be in order to be successful.   
  
Just the way he liked it.   
  
Right?  
  


~

  
  
Kup cuffed him over the head and then hugged him tightly enough that Rodimus’ armor creaked.   
  
“Don’t scare us like that, kid,” he said, his craggy voice rattling and rolling over Rodimus, as the scent of his cygar floated into Rodimus’ chemoreceptors.   
  
“Sorry.” Rodimus’ voice was muffled, smushed as his face was against the old mech’s chestplate, as pale and mottled green as the rest of Kup’s frame. “Didn’t mean to be gone so long.”   
  
“Shouldn’t have left at all.” Kup grunted and pulled back, hands on Rodimus’ shoulders firmly as he gave him a critical look. “And ya got yerself all beat up to boot.” One hand poked at Rodimus’ belly. “What happened here and who fixed ya up?”   
  
Trust Kup to acknowledge what Springer had ignored. His brother, such a loyal mech he was, had deposited Rodimus into Kup’s hands and then vanished, leaving him to the old mech’s mercy.   
  
Rodimus squirmed. “Ran into a turbowolf or two,” he said. “Did this myself. Really gotta thank Sides for shoving that emergency kit into my hand, come to think of it.” Sideswipe had given him that kit ages ago, and as far as Rodimus knew, it was still tucked under his berth. Hopefully, Kup wouldn’t know that.   
  
Kup squinted at him. The cygar moved from one side of his mouth to the other. “That’s a fine job for somethin’ ya did yerself.”   
  
“What can I say? I have untapped potential.” Rodimus grinned and shrugged. “I’ve got the turbowolf bits with me,” he added in a hopeful misdirection. “Well, not with me. Back in my pack in the dorm, but you know, souvenirs!” He beamed.   
  
Kup’s optics grew narrower. He chomped hard on his cygar, streams of smoke wafting up from his nose.   
  
“Souvenirs,” he repeated, and he planted both hands on Rodimus’ shoulders, promptly spinning him around before he proceeded to march, shoving Rodimus along with him. “You’re going to see the healer.”   
  
“What? Wrench? Awww.” Rodimus groaned but knew better than to try and escape. For as old as Kup was, he had a grip like duryllium, and besides all that, he had their Warchief’s highest regard.   
  
As Rodimus’ instructor, he was expected to obey Kup in all things. Resisting would only make things worse. Besides, he was already a black mark on Kup’s record, as useless of a trainee as Rodimus was. The last thing he wanted to do was offend the old mech further.   
  
“He doesn’t even know what he’s doing anymore,” Rodimus complained. Certainly Starscream had done a much better job, not that Rodimus was going to admit that. Their clan was severely lacking in medical assistance right now.   
  
“That may be true. But he knows better than you,” Kup said. “So march.”   
  
Rodimus marched. He pretended that he wasn’t being gawked at either, but apparently his two and a half week absence had been widely noted. It probably didn’t help that Sunstreaker had made a big deal of it. Now, his clanmates stared at him, the branded and the Firebrands alike.   
  
The march of shame apparently.   
  
Rodimus’ spoiler dipped down. The march of shame and disappointment and failure. Kup didn’t mean to embarrass the Pit out of him. Okay, well maybe a little. Nothing like a little shame to motivate after all. But also, it couldn’t be helped.   
  
Rodimus had vanished, and he’d returned with nothing to show for it but a healing wound and a pack full of turbowolf bits. Because he’d gotten lost. Or at least, that was the story as Rodimus would tell it.   
  
Much better that he embarrass himself, then subject Starscream to more Firebrands wandering his way, seeking glory and a challenge. Starscream did not deserve to have his solitude continuously broken, or to be pursued for the sake of something selfish.   
  
Wrench’s clinic – and clinic was a generous term – was tucked in the bowels of their settlement, furthest from the entrance and safest from attack. It nestled deep in the embrace of the mountain they’d claimed as their permanent home.   
  
They ventured out occasionally, during mating season and the ungulate migrations and peak gathering, but they always returned here. There was a petrorabbit colony nearby, and while one had to be careful of their speed and sharp denta, they were good eating. The underground springs, albeit not warmed like Starscream’s, were also a reason to station themselves here.   
  
Wrench, however, never left. The hunters and the gatherers and the unmated wandered, but Wrench and his single, grizzly self stayed locked up in his clinic like he was rusted into the walls. And maybe he was.   
  
Wrench was here when they got here. Wrench graciously allowed them to settle, complained the entire time about all of the mechs in his personal space, but never demanded they leave. He didn’t offer to teach anyone his skills, and no one asked, out of fear or disinterest, Rodimus wasn’t sure. Maybe a bit of both.   
  
He was old. Probably the oldest mech in their clan. Rodimus thought he was half-senile, too. But who else would know? Wrench was all the healer they had. Springer thought he used to be a cityling, a long time ago, long before Optimus and Megatron left and the rebellion first started.   
  
Why did he leave? No one knew. No one asked, or if they did, Wrench didn’t answer. Maybe Kup was brave enough to question the rust-aft, but he wasn’t talking either. Wrench had the Warchief’s and the Prime’s trust, so Rodimus supposed that was enough.   
  
“Well, brat, what have ya done to yourself now?” Wrench demanded as Kup shoved Rodimus inside and Wrench snatched him up like he was a sparkling.   
  
Wrench was big. Easily the same size as their Warchief, and his armor was pockmarked with rust. He creaked and rattled, but somehow, was one of the strongest mechs around here. He picked Rodimus up like he weighed nothing, and deposited him on the examination berth with a gentleness that belied his forceful personality.   
  
“Just a little tussle with a turbowolf. Nothing to be worried about.” Rodimus beamed his most charming beam. It had gotten him out of trouble before.   
  
“Pah. I’ll be the judge of that.” Wrench bent over and peered at Rodimus’ midsection as Rodimus abruptly leaned back on his elbows. “This the young’un you’ve been lookin’ for, Kup?”   
  
“One and the same.”   
  
“Lucky mech.” Wrench harrumphed and prodded at Rodimus’ armor, right where self-repair had worked mightily to make him whole. “And some elegant work for a self-patch.”   
  
Wrench lifted his head, gold optics narrowing. “Did this yourself, did ya?” he asked, tone curious and a bit incisive. “Maybe came across those turbowolves while wandering out by the viper runs, eh?”   
  
Rodimus squirmed. “Could’ve been,” he hedged. “Dunno. My GPS was fragged by the storm so I don’t know where I ended up.”   
  
“Mmm.” Wrench’s reply was noncommittal, even as he poked more at Rodimus’ midsection, and the wash of a scan made his plating prickle. “Well, you’re healing fine as far as I can tell. Gonna need a strip and wax and repaint, but otherwise, no sign of infection or rust. Good job, kid. Maybe you’ve got the makings of a medic in you.”   
  
Rodimus snorted. “No thanks.”   
  
The door to the clinic rattled open. Three pairs of optics swung toward it, only one of them not the least bit startled, only to find their Warchief darkening the doorway. Stooping a little, as it were, to come inside. There was plenty of ceiling space within the clinic, not so much in the doorway. Especially for a mech like their Warchief.   
  
Megatron was big, not quite the biggest in their clan, but almost that. His broad shoulders barely fit in the doorway, his arms bristling with energon sword mounts, though the single connector for his massive cannon was empty. Treads lined his legs, announcing his tank alt-mode, though rumor had it he had more than one. Blue optics peered out at Rodimus from the cowling of his plated helm, reported to protect a vast sensor array beneath.   
  
Megatron’s optics swept through the interior before finding and focusing on Rodimus, who might have curled a little into himself under the weight of his stare. Megatron was intimidating. No matter how much Sunstreaker told him there was nothing to be timid about, Rodimus still felt the urge to apologize and bow in Megatron’s presence. Even if he hadn’t done anything wrong.   
  
“There you are,” Megatron said, and Rodimus flinched. “You’ve had my mate in quite a mood, I’ll have you know.  _Both_  of them.” He straightened as much as he was capable, the plates of armor on his arms twitching.   
  
“If you’re going to yell, take it elsewhere,” Wrench said as he straightened to his full height, which made him the only one in the room on an even keel with Megatron. “This is a place for healing.”   
  
Megatron’s optical ridges drifted upward. “I’m not sure that Rodimus counts as a patient, and you have no others.”   
  
“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want peace and quiet,” Wrench retorted. He put a hand on Rodimus’ back and urged him off the table. “You’re fine. So ya can hop down and face your punishment if ya like.”   
  
“Fantastic,” Rodimus muttered, and obeyed. He glanced at Kup, but his trainer was grinning around his cygar, optics bright and amused. No help to be found there.   
  
Rodimus squared his shoulders and looked up at Megatron. “Is he back yet?” He didn’t even have to specify whom he meant. The look in Megatron’s face meant he knew.   
  
“He will be shortly.” Megatron beckoned him, his field flickering with amusement and aggravation both. Emotions he often had when his bonds were involved. “Come.”   
  
Rodimus hesitated.   
  
“I’m not going to yell,” Megatron said with an impatient second beckon. “I’ve been assured that Kup will be handling your punishment, and I trust him to choose one that is appropriate.”  
  
“Pleased to be havin’ your faith,” Kup said with a swagger as he winked at Rodimus. “Last I checked, the entirety of the dorms needed a good scrubbing. I was just about to call for volunteers, too.”   
  
Rodimus groaned. Hadn’t he suffered enough?   
  
He didn’t drag his feet, but he slouched as he joined his Warchief, a mech he had always admired, the weight of his failure sitting on his shoulders. The thinnest hopes he carried that he’d take the warrior’s brand at his graduation, crackled and crumbled. After this, no way would he gain the Warchief’s approval.   
  
“Good luck!” Wrench called after them, sounding far too gleeful for Rodimus’ comfort. Armor creaked and rattled like a wordless croon of the death march.   
  
Rodimus had a feeling he was going to need quite a bit of it.   
  
~

~

  
  
A week went by before Starscream’s front door pinged. His spark leapt in his chassis, and he didn’t want to admit to himself how excited he was. How he threw down his stylus and leapt to answer it.   
  
The peace and the quiet had been welcome at first. He’d sighed with relief and thrown himself into his research, convinced that now he could finally get something done. Without distractions or nosy clanlings, surely he could concentrate. Surely he’d make progress.   
  
Surely he wouldn’t find himself humming quietly a song that he’d only just learned, or calling out for someone who wasn’t there to hand him a device, or going into the energon room and being surprised to find it was empty.   
  
He called himself an idiot. A fool. He called himself many unkind things for daring to miss a mech who never intended to stay.   
  
Solitude suited Starscream. It was how he functioned.   
  
So why, then, was he leaping down to the bottom floor, an unexpected delight in his spark, as he keyed in his code to unlock the front gate. He was smiling, he discovered, and forced himself to wipe the expression off his face. He would never live it down if Rodimus discovered he was missed.   
  
The gate slid open, and the door as well. Starscream schooled his expression into something better crafted, hoping he looked bored and slightly irritated.   
  
But the mech who darkened his doorway, who stepped inside shaking grit from his cloak, was not Rodimus.   
  
“Well, that’s a cheerful greeting if I ever had one,” Deadlock drawled as he arched an orbital ridge, looking Starscream up and down. “Usually I have to drag you from your nest to acknowledge me. Miss me that much?”   
  
Starscream scowled. “You’re late,” he said. His mood plummeted despite efforts to keep himself buoyant. Oh, he was delighted to see Deadlock, but disappointment seethed inside of him nonetheless.   
  
Deadlock blinked and arched an orbital ridge. “Since when have I had a schedule?” he asked, and threw his cloak at the hook by the door. It missed and plopped onto the floor, sending a spray of grit across the floor that would summon the nearest cleaning drone post-haste. “And what, can’t a longlost friend get a hug when he returns?”   
  
He stepped close to Starscream. Starscream stopped him with a hand on his chestplate, grimacing as some kind of sticky grit clung to his palm as a consequence. Gross.   
  
“Absolutely not,” he declared. “You’re filthy. What the slag happened to you?” He was already attracting drones as it was. They were appearing from the woodwork, drawn by the sound of filth, Starscream imagined.   
  
Especially Stomp, who should have been cleaning the training room, but never failed to follow Deadlock around like a second shadow whenever Deadlock was home. Stroll liked Deadlock, too. Mostly because Deadlock didn’t yell at him and never tried to get him to clean.   
  
Deadlock grinned, fangs bared and gold optics bright. “Got into a tussle with the local wildlife. Maybe a clanling or two. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” It was barely bragging.   
  
For Deadlock.   
  
“A tussle,” Starscream repeated flatly. His nose twitched. He could smell, even from here, the stench of spilled energon. Mostly white, with bits of red and yellow and black, Deadlock was now a muddy brown and when he moved, grit grated in his hydraulics and flaked down.   
  
Had he rolled through the fragging Sea of Rust?  
  
“Or two,” Deadlock confirmed. He had the audacity to wink.   
  
Starscream rolled his optics. “Idiot.” He stepped back from his friend and pointed down the ramp. “March yourself to the washrack and get clean, then spend at least an hour in the oil pool. Do try not to track filth everywhere you go.” Though he supposed it didn’t really matter. Stomp would eagerly clean up after Deadlock, where he balked at all of Starscream’s commands.   
  
Deadlock chuckled and leaned in close. “Aww, you really do love me.” Close enough to feel his ex-vents now, and Starscream grimaced at the thought of any of that sticky mess getting on his armor.   
  
He shoved Deadlock’s face away from his. “Go!”   
  
Unperturbed, Deadlock laughed and moved past Starscream, obediently toward the downward-sloping ramp. “I’m going.”   
  
“And you’re going to clean whatever mess you make!”   
  
“Ffft.” Deadlock made a noise, a cross between a vent cycle and a hydraulic hiss. “Stroll will do it for me, Starling.” The tips of his finials vanished as he descended, though Starscream did hear him mutter, “Why even have a cleaning drone army if you’re not going to use it? Sheesh.”   
  
Shaking his head, Starscream went back to his lab. Once Deadlock got into the hot solvent and then the oil bath, he’d loiter around for hours. Such luxuries weren’t often available to him in his wanderings, so he lazed about whenever he came to visit, until the idea of staying in one place became too much for him.   
  
Starscream batted away the rest of the disappointment.   
  
At least with Deadlock here, the loneliness would ease. He had missed his dearest friend after all. And the company would be nice.   
  
For now, however, back to work.   
  


~

  
  
Rodimus waited for the lecture.   
  
Surprisingly, it did not come. Megatron walked with him in silence. Kup parted from them at a fork in the corridors, with a promise that he’d see Rodimus later, for an overdue conversation and to get him back into the training rotation. He left Rodimus alone with Megatron, and Rodimus tried not to fidget.   
  
He trailed along behind his Warchief, dully noting that they were heading for the settlement exterior, beyond the weight of the mountain above them. Rodimus blinked in surprise. He’d thought he’d be dragged to Megatron’s office for his chastisement. Or perhaps Megatron wanted to make a public spectacle of it?   
  
Great. Just great.   
  
“So...” he ventured, when the silence dragged on and impatience won out, “how much trouble am I in?”   
  
Megatron snorted and cast a look over his shoulder. “That is for Kup to decide. For now, I am only angry for the upset you caused my bondmates.”   
  
“Oh.” Rodimus didn’t know if that was a relief or not.   
  
“That was irresponsible of you, Rodimus, to do what you did. And I don’t particularly care what reason you had for doing so, but for your own sake, I suggest you think long and hard before you make such a mistake again,” Megatron said, without looking at Rodimus, the chastening easily carrying over his shoulders to rattle into Rodimus’ audials.   
  
His armor clamped down tight. His ventilations hitched. “I’m sorry,” Rodimus said. “I didn’t expect to be gone so long. Honestly. The storm caught me by surprise.”   
  
“If you had paid attention to the forecast, you would have known it was coming.”   
  
Rodimus winced. He lowered his gaze. “Yes, sir.”   
  
Megatron sighed and lifted a hand, rubbing his face Rodimus noticed peripherally. “However, I meant what I said. Your punishment is Kup’s to decide.”   
  
They stepped out of the settlement, passing through the gate with a nod to the warriors stationed there, the newly branded who were still learning their duties in the clan. Guard duty at the main gate was one of the easiest task in the settlement. Guard duty at the fences, however, carried the greatest risk. That particular duty was for the experts.   
  
“Well,” Megatron added as he half-turned toward Rodimus, something like a smirk curving his lips, “Kup and my bonded.”   
  
That was all the warning Rodimus had before someone barked his name and hands snatched at his shoulders, spinning him around. He yelped, but it was muffled in a golden chestplate as he was pulled into an embrace twice as tight as the one Kup had given him. He smelled fancy wax and polish and knew, in an instant, who it was.   
  
“You little fragger,” Sunstreaker hissed into his audial, his armor hot as though he’d been racing out on the flats and transformed in a hurry. “I’m going to fragging kill you for making me worry.”   
  
“Wouldn’t that kind of defeat the purpose of worrying about me in the first place?” Rodimus asked as his ex-vents fogged Sunstreaker’s windshield.   
  
Sunstreaker growled and shoved him back, hands tight where they gripped Rodimus’ shoulders. Blue optics were sharp and cutting as they looked Rodimus over from top to bottom, assessing in an instant.   
  
“You’ve been injured,” he observed.   
  
“Turbowolf,” Rodimus offered.   
  
Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed. His fingers dug in tighter. “I have spent the last week searching for you,” he said in a carefully chosen tone. “Every day, from the moment the storm eased, I have led a search party. I expected to only be lucky enough to find your empty frame.”   
  
Rodimus winced. Guilt clawed at his spark, where Kup and Megatron and Wrench had only managed to startle him. He hung his head.   
  
“I’m sorry.”   
  
Sunstreaker’s grip eased. He cupped Rodimus’ head instead, thumbs pressed against his cheeks, hands cradling his jaw. He made Rodimus look up at him, and it was hard to meet Sunstreaker’s optics, because Sunstreaker could be so very sharp and cold sometimes. But also, he could be gentle and concerned, and those were the hardest to bear.   
  
“You are  _never_  going to do that again,” Sunstreaker said, as if it was a foregone conclusion.   
  
Rodimus nodded as best he was capable. “Never,” he said.   
  
“Good.” Sunstreaker hauled him in, pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Now you’re filthy and you need a repaint and I deserve an explanation. So you’re coming with me.”   
  
Rodimus might have whimpered.   
  
Megatron laughed.   
  
He supposed, in the end, it was still good to be home.   
  


****


	9. Chapter 9

The scent of a freshly scrubbed speedster announced Deadlock’s arrival, but so did the drape of a warm frame over Starscream’s from behind, arms caging him in and chassis pressed to the back of his wings. Kisses dotted like little gifts all over the curvature of his head until Starscream squirmed.   
  
“What did I miss?” Deadlock asked, amused and warm, his voice drizzling into Starscream’s audial and making him shiver.   
  
“Nothing,” Starscream replied, and gamely tried to wriggle from under Deadlock’s weight, but for all that the mech was shorter than him, he was quite heavy.   
  
Triple-layered armor, apparently. A mech could never be too careful when he lived most of his life alone and wandering.   
  
“Come on, Lock, I’m working,” Starscream said, in vain, as he peered at his datapad but couldn’t seem to focus given the way Deadlock’s hands lingered.   
  
And wandered. Sliding up over his shoulders, curling around to brush his abdomen, and then slipping over his chest. One finger twirled a tiny turbine, sending zings of pleasure through Starscream’s lines.   
  
“Mmm, so I see,” Deadlock purred as his finger went flick, flick, flick, and Starscream’s turbine lazily spun in its casing. “But I’ll bet you need a boost first. Gotta keep your processor sharp, right?” He nibbled at the side of Starscream’s neck, singling out a cable and applying a sturdy pressure to it.   
  
Charge crackled up Starscream’s backstrut. “That is a terrible excuse,” he groaned.   
  
“But is it working?” Flick-flick-flick went the finger while the other hand toyed with his cockpit, trying to ease into the seam.   
  
Starscream shivered and arched into Deadlock’s hands, his array tingling. Especially when the finger abandoned his cockpit and went in search of his dataport, flicking over the latch protecting it.   
  
“Not at all,” Starscream said in an attempt to be droll, but it failed miserably as he pushed into Deadlock’s touch. “I swear the universe is out to distract me.”  
  
Deadlock laughed and pinched at his dataport cover, making Starscream jerk. “I’m the only one who’s been here in months. What else would you find so distracting? Unless...”   
  
He trailed off, tone turning contemplative, and then his hands vanished. Starscream made a noise of protest, but it quickly cut off when Deadlock swung around and deposited himself in Starscream’s lap, straddling him. He draped his hands over Starscream’s shoulders and cocked his head.   
  
“Unless I’ve not been your only visitor,” he purred and leaned forward, hands seeking and finding Starscream’s wings. “Spill it, Starling.”   
  
“Spill what? You’ve missed nothing,” Starscream said with a huff, his hands finding their way to Deadlock’s hips, because if his friend was going to persist in being a distraction, then Starscream was going to enjoy himself.   
  
“Ooo, the lies you tell me straight from your lips.” Deadlock tweaked an aileron and Starscream shivered, his array flushing with heat. “Something’s different. This whole place feels different. And you, especially are different.”   
  
Deadlock leaned in close, pressed his forehead to Starscream’s, sliding forward until their chestplates touched. “Come on, Starling. Tell ole Deadlock what’s going on.”  
  
Starscream laughed. “Primus, you’re ridiculous.” He gripped Deadlock’s hips, letting his thumbs sweep inward, teasing Deadlock’s array housing. “But you’re right. I’ve had a visitor since you’ve last been here.”   
  
“What? Really?” Deadlock reared back, and a scowl twisted his lips, though it wasn’t directed at Starscream in particular. “Who do I need to kill?”   
  
“No one, you bloodthirsty thing.” Starscream snorted, but his spark still fluttered at the offer. It was nice that someone wanted to protect him. “One of the locals got themselves into some trouble at the back door, and I bailed him out.”   
  
Deadlock squinted at him. “You let someone into the tower?”   
  
“Let is a strong word. It was either that or deal with his clan when they came looking for their missing Firebrand.” Starscream leaned in, tried to initiate a nuzzle. “He’s gone now. What does it matter? Don’t you owe me a ‘boost’ as you so elegantly called it?”   
  
“He didn’t hurt you?” Deadlock’s hands swept over Starscream’s shoulders and arms, a small frown on his lips, as though determined to find the smallest injury.   
  
“No,” Starscream replied, bemused. “But I appreciate your concern, Deadlock.”   
  
Deadlock cocked his head. “That can’t just be it though.” He pointed a finger at Starscream, waggling it in his face. “Usually when your research is interrupted, it’s the first thing you rant at me when I show up. So why’d I have to pull this time out of you?”   
  
“What? Do you think there’s something nefarious going on?” Starscream chuckled and resisted the urge to nip at that waggling finger.   
  
“I think there’s something you’re not telling me.” Deadlock’s glossa flicked over his lips, and he leaned forward, nose twitching as though he could pick up the scent of the Firebrand off Starscream’s frame. “You fragged him, didn’t you?”   
  
For someone who spent so much time isolated from society, Deadlock could be astonishingly perceptive.   
  
“Not in so many words,” Starscream said, and of all things, his face heated. “I miscalculated, and didn’t know if my coding degradation would stall until you arrived. I was desperate.”   
  
“And lucky he was here to donate.”   
  
“He saved my life,” Starscream corrected. “I’m still not sure he quite understands that.”   
  
Deadlock snorted. “Right. What would it matter to him? He got to frag a Seeker. Aft probably pranced out of here, trying to calculate who all he should blab to.” He folded his arms, optics darkening.   
  
“While I appreciate your defending my honor, as I said, it wasn’t like that.” Starscream’s tone was wry, even as he tickled his fingers into Deadlock’s seams. “He offered his code and that was it. We did not interface.”   
  
“Hmph. Then you found the honorable one out of the bunch,” he said with a sniff, though he gave Starscream a side-eyed look. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you trying to distract me. Your fingers are all over my seams.”   
  
Starscream made his optics big and wide. “What fingers?” He kept his tone as innocent as possible, even as he found a bundle of cables and stroked them. “Besides, what else am I supposed to do with a pretty little grounder in my lap? Hmm?”   
  
“I can think of a few things,” Deadlock purred and his hands returned to Starscream’s wings, his engine rumbling noisily. “That is, if you don’t mind the distraction.”   
  
“I wasn’t making any progress anyway,” Starscream said and pulled Deadlock into a kiss, moaning as denta nipped at his lips, and Deadlock rolled his hips in a manner which should be considered illegal.   
  


~

  
  
The settlement’s oil baths were larger and more numerous than Starscream’s private one, but they were also cooler. And loud.   
  
Rodimus tried not to make comparisons, but couldn’t help it. Not when he sank into the springwell they’d carved and shivered, because it wasn’t as blistering hot as Starscream’s had been. Or quite so soothing. He missed the enticing scent of whatever minerals Starscream swirled into the oils to make them so appealing. Plus Scuttle wasn’t around beeping at him as if afraid Rodimus had drowned.   
  
To be fair, however, there was one thing Starscream’s private bath didn’t have – a determined and dedicated Sunstreaker.   
  
There was once a time that Rodimus thought getting scrubbed on by a willing partner was an erotic experience that would lead to fun, berthtime shenanigans. He thought maybe that was still possible, so long as his partner wasn’t Sunstreaker, who considered time spent in the oil baths as serious as time spent on the training mat. It wasn’t for fooling around. It was for getting clean and spotless to Sunstreaker’s idea of perfection.   
  
Sunstreaker scrubbed into Rodimus’ seams and armor plate as though the tiniest speck of dirt offended him. He lifted Rodimus’ limbs and spun him around like a drone meant to obey and little else. It wasn’t the soft and sensual, flirtatious sweep of a washrag. It was a determined, ferocious scrub that would have been invasive, if Rodimus wasn’t so used to it. Sunstreaker didn’t know how to say he cared so he showed it instead.   
  
At least he’d be clean afterward, Rodimus thought, and braced himself to endure. It wouldn’t be the first time. Besides, a scrubdown by Sunstreaker was considered a thing of value in the clan. He was being treated. Other mechs were envious of the friendship Rodimus had with the twins, even though they’d scorned Sunstreaker and Sideswipe before.   
  
Rodimus knew, just as much as the twins did, that their interest only came about because Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had successfully courted the warchief. Suddenly, Sunstreaker’s abrasiveness and Sideswipe’s irritating pranks were endearing, rather than off-putting. Now that they had the audial of one of the clan’s highest ranked members.   
  
“So,” Sunstreaker began as he attacked a scuff on Rodimus’ left shin as though it had insulted his twin, “Want to tell me what happened?”  
  
Rodimus winced. “You already know.” He didn’t meet Sunstreaker’s gaze, instead looking around at the other patrons of the bathing room. There was a group of younglings splashing around in the corner, under the bored gaze of their sitter. “I let the idiots goad me into doing something stupid. Then I got lost and had to hide out until the storm passed.”  
  
“You were also attacked by turbowolves and somehow managed to repair yourself in the middle of a storm,” Sunstreaker said, his tone mild, but disbelieving.   
  
“Yeah. Sounds about right.”   
  
Sunstreaker snorted and spun Rodimus around. He bent over to peer at the patch of bare armor on Rodimus’ abdomen. “You didn’t do this,” he said as he gave it a poke before he looked up at Rodimus. “Come on, Roddy. It’s me, not those idiots. You can tell me the truth. Who’d you run into? One of Elita’s bunch? Magnus’? Skyfire’s?”   
  
Rodimus shook his head. “I didn’t come across any of them. Honestly, Sun. I’m the only mech dumb enough not to check the forecast and realize there was a storm coming.” He rubbed the back of his head, lowering his gaze.   
  
“Foolish, too, for actually believing those stupid rumors and letting the other Firebrands goad you.” Sunstreaker gave Rodimus another critical look. “You’re clean enough. Let’s get you dry so I can paint you.”   
  
“Aww, Sun. You don’t have to.”   
  
Sunstreaker cocked an orbital ridge. “None of that was a suggestion, Rodimus. Up you get.” He patted Rodimus’ aft for emphasis. “I’m not letting you walk around looking like that. It’s embarrassing.”   
  
Beaten, Rodimus climbed out of the oil bath and snatched a meshcloth, toweling himself in short, efficient strokes, just as Sunstreaker had taught him. Beside him, Sunstreaker did the same.   
  
In the corner, the younglings were being herded out by their sitter. This time of the day, the baths were scarcely occupied. Most of their clansmechs were on duty or out performing necessary tasks. The few mechs that were present paid them no attention. Frag, Drag Strip looked like he was napping. Rodimus wouldn’t be surprised if he actually was. Drag Strip was the only mech who spent more time soaking in the baths than Sunstreaker.   
  
“You shouldn’t let them get under your plating like that,” Sunstreaker murmured as he finished his own armor and then frowned at Rodimus’ back, only to attack his spoiler with the drying cloth.   
  
Rodimus bit back a sigh and endured once again. It was part of the price of a Sunstreaker cleaning. If he didn’t do a good enough job, Sunstreaker would do it himself.   
  
“Goading you into doing something so stupid, I mean,” Sunstreaker added as he wiped the last trickles of oil from Rodimus’ spoiler and tossed the meshcloth into the recycle bin. “You don’t have anything to prove to them.”   
  
“Maybe not. But I do have to show that I’m capable to Kup and Wirelight and the Warchief.” Rodimus gave Sunstreaker an askance look, though he knew Sunstreaker would never understand.   
  
He and Sideswipe were born warriors, built for it down to the struts. It came easy to them. They had always been certain of their place in the clan. Yeah, maybe they’d wavered when it came to their chosen mate because who would be arrogant enough to court their  _warchief_? But the twins had always been confident of themselves. It was one thing they never lacked.   
  
“Chasing after a myth is not the way to do that,” Sunstreaker retorted. He tugged Rodimus out of the public baths and down the narrower back halls, no doubt to the large room he shared with his twin and their Warchief.   
  
Warchief Megatron and Optimus Prime had larger rooms than anyone in the clan, but they weren’t ostentatious. Both mechs claimed they were nothing special, and to be fair, both had rather large family units that needed the greater space. The Prime’s bond was a carrier mech, one responsible for a half-dozen symbionts, and the Prime himself often held meetings in his quarters. Warchief Megatron was much the same, though he and the twins had not opted to raise younglings.   
  
Yet.   
  
“He’s not a myth,” Rodimus muttered.   
  
Sunstreaker rolled his optics. “I know that. But honestly Rodimus, did you really think finding a Seeker for whatever reason was any way to prove your worth?”   
  
His face heated. He clamped his mouth shut. He didn’t want to talk about how desperate he felt then. How the goading and the teasing and the challenge had made him puff up, made him feel obligated to prove himself. How he felt miles behind his fellow Firebrands and felt he’d never catch up. How his dreams of being a warrior slipped through his fingers. He’d never get to fight alongside Sideswipe and Sunstreaker if he couldn’t take the Warchief’s brand.   
  
He wouldn’t get to travel. He wouldn’t get to see anything. He’d be stuck at the settlement, always at the settlement, with the rest of those too old or young or unskilled to defend themselves. He’d never see the Sea of Rust or the Sea of Mercury. He’d never visit with the other clans and meet new people.   
  
He was too stupid for anything else. Rodimus knew this. If he couldn’t be a warrior, what use was he? He hadn’t the processor for tactics or study. He hadn’t the creativity to weave or sew or build. He was somewhat practiced at a little bit of everything, but skilled at absolutely nothing, and useless everywhere around.   
  
What was he if not a warrior? If he couldn’t seek any of his passions? If he had to settle for security and safety, left behind to rot? He didn’t know if he could bear it, a life like that. He had to be meant for more.   
  
If not a warrior, then what?  
  
Rodimus didn’t have a good answer for that which didn’t make him sound pathetic or like a fool, or worse, both. So he pressed his lips together and folded his arms over his chest.   
  
Sunstreaker sighed. He didn’t press for answers, at least, not while they still walked the public corridors.   
  
When they arrived at the massive quarters Sunstreaker shared with his twin and their Warchief, however, Rodimus knew he was in for it. He braced himself, and tried not to look like he trudged to his doom as Sunstreaker swept aside the swinging door and gestured him inside.   
  
Rodimus had been here before, albeit not as often as the time he’d spent in the small room Sunstreaker and Sideswipe used to share. The largest room was, by far, the main receiving room. Three other doorways led to the shared berth room, an office for the Warchief, and a storage room for all their spare weapons, energon, and supplies.  
  
“Sit,” Sunstreaker said as he gathered up his painting supplies, all of which he kept in a central location for ease of use. Given how often he touched up his own paint, it was no surprise. He had a whole corner of the receiving room cordoned off just for his supplies.   
  
Rodimus planted his aft in one of the chairs expertly arranged throughout the receiving room and cycled a ventilation, preparing himself for a lecture. Or an interrogation. Or both. Sunstreaker could be pretty perceptive when he put his processor to it, and with a victim who couldn’t escape, he had all the time in the world.   
  
“Now,” Sunstreaker said as he moved closer, dragging a wheeled tray with his various instruments arrayed upon it, “are you going to tell me what really happened out there?”   
  
Rodimus squirmed.   
  
“Be still,” Sunstreaker added as he picked up a cloth and a bottle and eyed Rodimus’ midsection intently.   
  
Rodimus fought back a sigh. “I’ve told you what happened.”   
  
“Not the truth.”   
  
Rodimus ground his denta. “How are you so sure I’m lying?”   
  
“Because I know you,” Sunstreaker said simply, as if that was explanation enough.   
  
Sunstreaker frowned, but it was directed at Rodimus’ belly, as he drizzled something on the mesh cloth and started to dab at Rodimus’ armor. The bitter reek of stripper floated up to Rodimus’ nose, and he wrinkled it.   
  
“What does it matter anyway?” Rodimus asked, as desperate to keep the secret as he was to tell someone, anyone, about it in a vague hope that they would understand and help him make sense of it. “I’m back, I’m alive. What’s it matter what really happened?”   
  
Sunstreaker didn’t look at him, focusing intently on the task at hand. “Because it matters to you,” he said softly, and then he looked up, his optics gentle as so few knew they could be. “Do you trust me?”   
  
Rodimus groaned. He buried his face behind his hands. “Sunny, that’s not fair,” he said, just short of a whine. “You can’t pull that on me.”   
  
“You see, that’s where you’re wrong.” Sunstreaker leaned back, and the tray clattered as he set aside the stripper and reached for something else. “I’m a warrior. I can use whatever tactic I like. That still doesn’t answer my question.”   
  
Rodimus’ shoulders sank, even as he shifted at Sunstreaker’s urging, surrendering his abdomen to his friend’s ministrations. He leaned into the chair, trying not to wince as Sunstreaker chipped at the raised edges of the ragged weld.   
  
“You can’t tell anyone,” Rodimus said as he lowered his hands. He gnawed on his bottom lip in between words. “I mean it, Sunny. I owe him my life.”   
  
“Owe,” Sunstreaker echoed, before he nodded firmly. “Consider it locked then. Not even Sides or Megatron will know.” He bent over Rodimus again. “Tell me.”   
  
If there was one person in the entire settlement Rodimus could trust with the truth, it was Sunstreaker. And he needed to tell someone.   
  
So he did.   
  
Quietly, in stuttered bursts and meandering incomplete sentences, while Sunstreaker silently worked on making his abdomen look brand new and then moved on to touching up his frame here and there. He didn’t comment, said nothing until he was sure Rodimus was finished, and that made it easier somehow.   
  
He told Sunstreaker about getting lost, finding the caves, being attacked by the turbowolves and thinking that he’d met his end. He talked about how he’d woken up in an unfamiliar place, in the company of a stranger, who had not only repaired him, but offered his home as a refuge from the storm.   
  
How Starscream had been rude and standoffish, but kind where it mattered. How he was beautiful and smart and ate Rodimus’ treats with evident delight. How he’d let Rodimus read his books and use his training room and explore the universe through the holographs in the Astronomy room. How Starscream had trusted Rodimus with a secret of his own, and then, the code sharing. How it had felt, how strange it had been, but also wonderful.   
  
And then, his own mixed feelings. How a part of him had wanted to stay, because he wasn’t sure there was anything left for him in the clan, and aside from that, he wanted to get to know Starscream better. He was fascinated by everything in the tower. He’d learned so much and wanted to learn more. He loved the drones and Scuttle especially. He wanted to kiss Starscream and mean it.   
  
By the time he finished, Sunstreaker had moved on to buffing him to a shine, his fingers making long, delicate sweeps over Rodimus’ spoiler. It was soothing, like a loving embrace, and Rodimus leaned into it, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Being around Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe also, had always been a comfort for him. Springer was his brother, but there was always this sense of competition between them. Whereas being with the twins was more about companionship.   
  
“Well?” Rodimus prompted, once the silence had grown too long and stretched thin between them. He wanted Sunstreaker’s advice. He wanted to hear it from someone other than the stupid hopes building in his own spark.   
  
Sunstreaker set down his buffing cloth and rested his hands on Rodimus’ shoulders. “I’m glad you came back to us,” he said.   
  
Rodimus blinked. “That’s it?”  
  
“Were you expecting a reprimand?” Sunstreaker’s voice was warm with humor, even as he moved around to face Rodimus, crouching to look up at him. “Tell me this, Rodimus. Is taking the Warchief’s badge the only action of worth to you?”   
  
“It’s what I’m supposed to do.”   
  
Sunstreaker shook his head, resting a hand on Rodimus’ nearest knee. “That’s not what I asked.”   
  
Rodimus gnawed on his bottom lip. “If I’m not a warrior, then what am I? What’s the point of anything?” Which, he knew, didn’t answer Sunstreaker’s question either.   
  
“I can’t answer that for you, and right now, I do think you need to answer it for yourself.” Sunstreaker patted his knee and stood up again, cupping Rodimus’ head and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “If I know you as well as I think I do, you’ll figure it out.”   
  
“Thanks. I guess.” Rodimus squirmed in his grip, warmth fluttering out from his spark.   
  
There was still a part of him which resented that Sunstreaker would never be his. He valued their friendship and what they had, but that Megatron had come along and wooed them away hung heavy in his spark. He used to dream about getting old enough, earning his warrior’s badge, and presenting himself as a mate candidate to the twins.   
  
They bonded with Megatron before he ever got the chance.   
  
“You’re welcome.” Sunstreaker released him and stepped back, lips curved with amusement. “Now come on. Let’s find you a meal before I turn you over to Kup’s custody.”   
  
Rodimus groaned and hung his head. “Can’t I just hide here until he forgets about it?”   
  
Sunstreaker chuckled. “I don’t think Megatron will approve, kid.”   
  
“You’re not that much older than me.” Rodimus rolled his optics and forced himself to stand. Sunstreaker was right after all.   
  
He had to face the consequences of his actions. No matter what it meant. Yes, they’d goaded him, but it had been Rodimus’ choice to leave without telling anyone, to barge into the desert with a half-baked plan and an absurd idea of proving himself.   
  
“But thanks,” Rodimus added with a small smile. “For listening, I mean.”   
  
Sunstreaker winked and dragged him into a half-hug, his frame warm and his engine purring and his field feeling the closest to what Rodimus could describe as home.  
  
“Anytime, Roddy. Anytime.”   
  


~

  
  
“So tell me about the Firebrand,” Deadlock said, out of nowhere, as they lounged in Starscream’s berth, feeling lazy and indulgent.   
  
Interfacing with Deadlock was always a curious thing. Half-comfort, half-familiarity, all pleasure. Starscream adored Deadlock and the sensations his friend could invoke in him, and there was a soft curl of comfort in his belly whenever Deadlock was around. It was love, but it wasn’t.   
  
Starscream didn’t think he could define it.   
  
The jolt in his spark at the mere mention of Rodimus, however, was something wholly different. And unexpected. Had the Firebrand crawled so deeply under his plating?  
  
Starscream lazily stretched his arms over his head and flopped over to his front, letting his wings twitch and shift in their housing. “Why?”   
  
“Because I’m curious.” Deadlock sprawled next to him, hand slip-sliding over Starscream’s back to tease his seams. “And because it’s rare that you let anyone stick around.”   
  
Starscream twitched a wing and pillowed his head on his arms. “Is that jealousy I detect?”   
  
“Mmm. More like protectiveness.” Deadlock leaned over, getting his mouth on a wing flap, his denta asserting a light pressure.   
  
Starscream hissed, heat coiling in his array, threatening to stir his sated bits back to life. “He’s gone,” Starscream managed to spit out. “What does it matter what he’s like?”   
  
“It just does.” Deadlock’s ex-vents were hot and wet on the edge of Starscream’s wing. “Come on, Starling. Tell me. Was he at least attractive?”   
  
Starscream laughed into the berth cover. “You’re ridiculous,” he said with a groan. “But yes, he was. Red and yellow, these garish flames painted across his chestplate. His alt-mode had a spoiler, and in root mode, it created these adorable faux-wings across his upper back.”   
  
“Mmm.” Deadlock nibbled on his ailerons. One hand drifted down Starscream’s back, flirting over the curve of his aft. “What else?”   
  
Starscream buried his face in his arms, though it did little to stall the light coils of pleasure stirring in his frame. “I think he’s from the Kaonite clan, you know, that big settlement to the east? He wasn’t branded.”   
  
“Look at you, creche-robber.” Deadlock laughed. “Taking code from such a young thing. I shouldn’t be so surprised.”   
  
Starscream shoved himself to his elbows and directed a glare over his shoulder. “What’s that supposed to mean?”   
  
Deadlock snorted. “Nothing.” He bit at Starscream’s wing again, optics teasing as they met Starscream’s. “Tell me more.”   
  
“Why should I?” Starscream sniffed and flicked his wing out of Deadlock’s oral range.   
  
“Because I asked.” Deadlock’s glossa swept over his lips, baring a hint of fang. “What’s his name?” His hand rested on Starscream’s aft, a lingering, heavy weight.   
  
“Hot Ro-- No, Rodimus. It was Rodimus.” Starscream frowned as he corrected his defaults. “For some reason, he felt the need to tell me an alias. And he came here, like so many before him, because of a rumor. You know the one.”   
  
Deadlock field flickered into anger. “Yes, I know the one,” he growled and his hand curled, claws threatening to curl a strip of paint from Starscream’s aft. “And you let him stay here anyway? Knowing what he wanted from you?”   
  
“I made it quite clear the consequences of any misbehavior.” Starscream sniffed and tossed Deadlock a dark look. “I am capable of taking care of myself, you know.”   
  
“Still a pointless risk.” Deadlock’s hand abandoned his aft sadly, and he pulled himself up, seated with his back to the wall and his knees drawn up. He draped his arms over his knees, hands gesturing. “Especially since he got what he wanted in the end.”   
  
“I didn’t ‘face him,” Starscream repeated and buried his face in his arms, his voice muffled when he added, “I copied his code. I offered to ‘face him, in exchange for his code, but he turned me down.”   
  
“Huh. A Firebrand with a conscience. Who knew they existed?” Deadlock snorted.   
  
“He was quite… unusual.” Starscream offlined his optics, cycling several ventilations in an attempt to dismiss the lowgrade arousal simmering in his lines. “Messy, full of questions, and quite irritating at times but he wasn’t as much of a bother as I expected him to be.”   
  
“Hm.”   
  
Starscream blinked and pushed himself upright, half-swiveling to stare narrow-opticked at his best friend. “I know that tone.” He frowned. “What is it?”   
  
Deadlock twisted his wrists, palms facing upward, a gesture of conciliation. “You tell me.” He tilted his head, optics dark and acute. “Get used to him being around, did you?”   
  
Starscream twisted his frame until he was seated on the edge of the berth, though one leg curled up on it so he could face Deadlock. “You sure you’re not jealous?”   
  
“Nothing to be jealous of. Not like you’re mine.” Deadlock shrugged, but there was nothing nonchalant about it. “Only I know that you don’t like people, yet you seem to have nothing but good things to say about this one.”   
  
“Well, maybe that’s because he turned out not to be an aft like everyone else.”   
  
“Except me.” Deadlock smirked, flashing one sharp fang. “And, well, Blurr.”   
  
Starscream’s spark twinged at the reminder. It had been decades since he’d separated romantically from his former partner, and while that end had come by mutual agreement, it was still an ache of loss in his spark. Visiting Blurr occasionally, for a code refresh or just because, did little to ease the ache.   
  
“You’re still an aft,” Starscream said loftily, trying to chase away the rush of sadness. “Just a different kind.” He hopped down from the berth and stretched his arms over his head. “I’m going to get some coolant. Shall I bring you something?”   
  
Deadlock flopped back down to the berth, taking up such a large amount of space for a frame smaller than Starscream’s own. “Surprise me,” he purred as he wriggled about to make himself comfortable. “And don’t think we’re done talking about this. I know a redirection when I hear one.”   
  
Starscream snorted and waved Deadlock off. He did need coolant, but yes, also, he wanted some distance.   
  
He didn’t want to talk about Rodimus, because he couldn’t put into words the answer Deadlock wanted. Starscream wasn’t even sure what answer he wanted to give.   
  
Best to forget about it. 


	10. Chapter 10

Life settled into a routine far quicker than Rodimus expected it would.   
  
He wasn’t sure why he thought things would be different. He just had this expectation in the pit of his spark that something would have changed. Or maybe the problem was that he had changed. He wasn’t sure.   
  
He bent to his punishment – cleaning duty twofold, no surprise there – and he rejoined his fellow Firebrands in their daily training. He felt apart from them, however, and when they trotted off in little cliques to laugh and brag amongst each other, Rodimus didn’t join them. He was invited, but he declined.   
  
They’d goaded him, and he’d embarrassed himself, and he was having a hard time reconciling it. They were as strangers to him.   
  
Springer gave him long, sad looks. But when Fangry and Twin Twist called for him, he just patted Rodimus on the shoulder and wished him luck in his cleaning duties. Springer didn’t know how to handle Rodimus anymore than Rodimus knew how to handle himself.   
  
He turned over the bits of turbowolf he’d brought with him to the artisans of the clan. They ooh’ed and aah’ed and made appropriate noises of appreciation, already babbling to each other how best to use the materials. They were also grateful for the metal ingots Rodimus didn’t keep for himself.   
  
He’d found the datapads then, buried at the bottom of his pack. His spark hammering in his chassis, Rodimus pulled them out, feeling touched to the core. His finger swept over the titles inlaid on the back, all of them romances and fairy tales from Starscream’s collection. He’d noticed, and he’d given them to Rodimus.   
  
They were now under his berth, in his personal crate, buried deep where Springer couldn’t find them and tease him. Rodimus kept one in his subspace, for the spare moments he had betweeen training and cleaning, when he could wander off on his lonesome and bury his nose in the pages. They, at least, were much better company.   
  
The Festival of Stars approached, as he knew it would, and then it was here. With it came the moment Rodimus had both dreaded and anticipated. Before getting lost, before Starscream, he’d been eager. He thought he had a chance. Now, he knew what to expect.   
  
Rodimus stood in the gathered crowd, with the entirety of his clan who was not on extended watch or guard duty or couldn’t be spared from their various responsibilities. The bonfire crackled and burned behind him, ready for the celebration afterward. Baked treats wafted their enticing odors and a huge display of engex waited for the inevitable congratulations.   
  
All of the Firebrands clustered together, though Rodimus lingered to the back of the group of a dozen or so mechs, his brother among them. Excitement and energy rippled in the air. Not every Firebrand wanted to be a warrior. Some had other aspirations. The soldier hopefuls, however, were most obvious in their pushing to the front, jostling each other with excited elbows.   
  
Rodimus waited, and surprised himself how little he felt on bolts and brackets. It was like he already knew the outcome.   
  
Warchief Megatron stepped forward and gave his speech, his second and third to his left and right – Soundwave and Wirelite respectively. Rodimus stared at the datapad in the warchief’s hand. He knew it contained a list, just as did the rest of his fellow Firebrands.   
  
The speech ended. The crowd politely clapped. Some of the more newly branded whooped, and quite a few of the Firebrands echoed them. Until Wirelite called for quiet, and Megatron lifted his datapad.   
  
Silence fell.   
  
One by one, Megatron read from the list. Of the names called, Rodimus’ was not among them. It came as little surprise. It didn’t even give him the jolt of disappointment in his spark. He felt too numb for that.   
  
He was not a warrior. He was not suited to be one. He doubted even, by the next commitment ceremony, that he would. Especially since it would be his last. He already knew it was no longer his fate. He was to be a civilian, to serve under the guidance of their Prime.   
  
It was not a terrible fate. It carried its own rewards. It just wasn’t the path Rodimus had always dreamed he’d take. It confined him. Entrapped him. It was not the life he’d imagined for himself.   
  
Rodimus stood back and watched some of his fellow batchmates grin and bow as they rose to accept their brands. Clockwork and Silverspire and Twin Twist, all quivering with pride, bearing the burden as their Warchief personally applied the brands and welcomed them to his warriors.   
  
Silverspire had been the worst of the goaders, insistent that Rodimus’ future depended on him taking this risk. He had always taunted Rodimus, who was one of the smallest of their batch, and never managed to excel at much of anything. He’d always envied Rodimus his friendship with the twins.   
  
They’d turned Silverspire down once upon a time. He never forgot that insult.   
  
Springer was up there, too. To no one’s surprise. He’d taken top marks this time around. His acceptance of the Warchief’s mark was a foregone conclusion. Every one was sure he’d rise to leadership in little time. Many thought he’d take over when Kup retired, if not for the Warchief himself.   
  
And there was Rodimus. At the back of the crowd, counting the demerits on his record and knowing he’d never stand on that podium.   
  
He wondered if he even cared anymore.   
  
Movement in his peripheral vision alerted him to the fact he wasn’t alone. He expected it to be Sunstreaker, offering words of consolation, but the colors were wrong. Bright crimson instead, and of course, Sideswipe.   
  
He grinned at Rodimus, nudging him with a shoulder. “Hey hot stuff,” he said, with that easygoing drawl that never failed to drizzle through Rodimus, igniting heat on the way. “Been looking for you.”   
  
“I’ve been around,” Rodimus murmured. He leaned harder against the wall, as if he could merge himself into the carved metal and become part of the settlement. The sounds of growing celebration felt all too distant to him.   
  
“Yeah, but not in the way I expected you to be.” Sideswipe leaned beside him, their arms touching, the warmth of him both foreign and familiar. “Didn’t see ya at the matches, or the races, or at last night’s game either.”   
  
Rodimus shrugged. “Had other things to do. Besides all that, Kup’s idea of punishment has kept me exhausted.” He scrubbed his hand over his head and offered a wry grin. “You know how that is.”   
  
Sideswipe chuckled. “Sure do.” Once upon a time, he’d been a notorious prankster with boundless energy who was constantly facing Kup’s wrath. “He can be pretty creative when properly motivated, and kid, you scared us all.”   
  
‘All’ was an exaggeration, Rodimus knew. Many folks didn’t notice him missing. In fact, if not for having befriended the twins who made such a big fuss as a result, Rodimus wondered if anyone would have realized he was gone. Sure, Springer had been worried. He’d have probably gone after Rodimus himself if Sunstreaker hadn’t beaten him to it.   
  
But overall?  
  
Rodimus didn’t make much of a mark here.   
  
Rodimus ducked his head. “Sorry,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”   
  
“Oh, I know. I just… you sure you’re all right?” Sideswipe peered at him, gaze dropping to Rodimus’ abdomen but only briefly.   
  
He tried for a pleasant grin. “Course I am. I’m all healed up. Sunny even made me pretty again. Why would you think otherwise?”   
  
“Just a feeling I have.” Sideswipe shrugged, but he didn’t do nonchalant well. He was far too devious for that. “Plus, you’re different, I don’t know. Something about you is different. Not bad, just… different.”   
  
Rodimus squinted at him. “Did Sunstreaker tell you?”   
  
“Tell me what?” Sideswipe scratched at his chin. “You know how Sunny is. He’s a steel trap if he wants to be. Something I should know, hot shot?”   
  
Rodimus shook his head. “No. Never mind.” He shifted his weight and returned his attention to the stage, where the newly inducted warriors lined up behind their Warchief who was preparing to make a speech.   
  
Sideswipe made a noncommittal noise. He pressed his arm to Rodimus’. “You know Sunny and I love ya, right? No matter what you end up deciding.”   
  
Rodimus blinked and gave Sideswipe a startled look. “Deciding? What do you mean?”   
  
Sideswipe shrugged again. “Nothing. Just throwing that out there.” He leaned in close, all but laying his head on Rodimus’ shoulder. “Just in case, you know, you want to go out after whatever’s still got your spark.”  
  
“I-I don’t know what you mean.”   
  
“Sure you don’t.” Sideswipe rubbed his face on Rodimus’ shoulder and looked up at him with a bright grin. “But in case you do figure out what I mean, just know that me and Sunny, we got your back, okay?”   
  
A raucous sound rose up from the gathered crowd then, as their fellow clansmechs clapped and cheered for their Warchief. The newly inducted warriors bowed, beaming with pride. The roar grew louder. The band started to play. The celebration would begin soon.   
  
And Sideswipe beamed up at Rodimus, brimming with affection. It was almost enough.   
  
Rodimus’ spark bloomed with warmth. “Thanks,” he said. “And I mean that, Sides. You and Sunny mean the world to me.”   
  
“We know.” Sideswipe winked and laughed, jostling Rodimus with his shoulder. “You’re staying tonight, right?”   
  
For the dance and bonfire? For the engex and sweet treats and the lead up to mating season?   
  
Rodimus considered skipping it all. He didn’t feel like he had much to celebrate. He no longer had anyone he wished to court.   
  
Kup had given him the evening away from scrubbing, so he could go to the celebration, and a part of him thought maybe he’d rather be cleaning. It sure would be better than standing on the sidelines, staring longingly at all the things he’d never have.   
  
“You know Sunny will be put out if you don’t,” Sideswipe added. “You owe us both a dance. And you’ll also miss out on trying my new, special recipe. One I might even be convinced to share.”   
  
Rodimus managed a smile. “I’ll come.” For their sake, if nothing and no one else’s.   
  
“Sweet.” Sideswipe leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Save me a dance, okay? We gotta show all these stiffs out here how to really groove.”   
  
Rodimus chuckled. “If you say so.”   
  
“I do, in fact.” Sideswipe grinned and spun away with a little playful salute. “Catch you later.”   
  
And then he was gone, joining the roil of mechs as they seethed away from the stage and surged toward the main courtyard for the party tonight. The bonfire would really grow after sunset, the high grade would be flowing, there would be treats aplenty, and even those on perimeter guard would be spelled later so they could take part.   
  
The Festival of Stars was the single, biggest event in all of the settlement for the entirety of the year.   
  
All in all, it wasn’t a terrible way to spend an evening. Once upon a time, Rodimus would have been jittering with excitement about it. He would have danced with the best of them. He would have joined in the strength challenges and the skill challenges. He’d have drank himself into a stupor, and stuffed himself full of treats until he purged. And he’d have called it a good night.   
  
He supposed he had changed. Maybe even for the better.   
  
Sighing, Rodimus pushed himself off the wall. Best go take a quick rinse, soak, and buff, or Sunstreaker would never let him live it down. He still had to look his best, no matter what. He still had to pretend he belonged here.   
  
It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go.   
  


~

  
  
Starscream leapt across the room and snatched the small box out of Deadlock’s hands before he could think twice about what he was doing. He whipped around, bodily putting himself between Deadlock and his reclaimed prize, while the last few energon treats slid around inside.   
  
“Uh. I take it you don’t want to share those?” Deadlock asked from behind Starscream, his voice richly amused, but also bewildered.   
  
Starscream worked his intake and shook his head. “No.” He edged away from Deadlock and returned the box to the stasis field. “They were a gift,” he added, to clarify. “And I only have so many.”   
  
“A gift.” Deadlock leaned against the counter, watching Starscream intently. “This wouldn’t have something to do with the Firebrand, would it?”   
  
“Insomuch that he made them.” Starscream shrugged and closed the door, sealing the treats safely in the keeper.   
  
“Uh huh.” Deadlock’s grin widened, turning sharklike and feral. “I don’t suppose he made that little car and jet on your desk either.”   
  
Starscream felt heat steal into his faceplate. “As a matter of fact, he did,” he said airily and cocked an orbital ridge at his best friend. “Why?”   
  
“For someone whose existence you claim to be unimportant, you sure do treat the things he left behind specially,” Deadlock drawled. “One might, I dare say, claim that you liked said person.”   
  
Starscream reared back; his wings went rigid. “That’s absurd,” he spluttered, the heat in his face growing. “He was an irritation. An annoyance. A distraction. A distraction I don’t need, if I may remind you, because my very spark depends on it!” He shook a finger in Deadlock’s direction, spilling out the last on the edge of a growl.   
  
Deadlock, however, didn’t so much as flinch in the face of it. “You’re not as solitary as you like to think you are, Starling.” He paused and his voice softened just a tad. “And I’m not around nearly as much as I ought to be either.”   
  
“I don’t blame you for that,” Starscream said and whirled away from Deadlock, his spark doing an unfortunate squeeze-flutter in his chassis. He nearly tripped over Scramble in his haste. “You wander. It’s in your nature. I know that.”   
  
“Doesn’t mean you don’t get lonely.”   
  
“Yes, it does,” Starscream snapped. His spark pulsed harder as if with fear, though there was nothing to be afraid of. “I am not lonely because I like to be alone. I have things to do. My research takes precedence above all else. I don’t have time for… for…”   
  
“Friendship? Companionship?” Deadlock cut him off before he could stalk out the door, leaning toward Starscream with a purr in his vocals. “Romance?”   
  
Starscream folded his arms over his cockpit. “All of the above.”   
  
“Oh, I’ve no doubt you tell yourself that to make the long nights easier.” Deadlock cupped his face, a surprisingly gentle gesture for the often rough and tumble mech. “But behind that snark and bluster, you don’t want to be alone. Otherwise you wouldn’t bother with me, and you never would have bothered with Blurr.”   
  
Starscream stiffened. “We are not talking about Blurr.” No matter how many years had passed, memories of his former lover and current friend would never be easy. Starscream would not admit to the nights he spent pacing the corridors, wondering if he’d made the right choice.   
  
“I know.” Deadlock’s thumbs stroked Starscream’s cheeks. “He’s off-limits, a wound that still isn’t healing. Doesn’t make what I’m saying any less true though.”  
  
Starscream snorted, his gaze dropping from Deadlock’s. He hated it when Deadlock got all schmoopy and earnest. Made it harder to ignore him because he was just so damned sincere.   
  
Made it harder to watch him leave, too.   
  
“What’s it matter anyway?” Starscream asked, and hated how tired he sounded. Tired and disappointed both. “He’s gone. What point in there is admitting that I actually enjoyed his company?”   
  
A small rumble rose in Deadlock’s engine. “You know what, Star. I think you were wrong.”   
  
“Shocker,” Starscream muttered and dragged his optics back to Deadlock. “About what, pray tell?”   
  
“There is someone I need to kill.” Deadlock dragged him close, pressing a kiss to the curve of his mouth. “Soon as you tell me his name.”   
  
Starscream snorted again. He curled his fingers around Deadlock’s hand, slowly loosening them from his face. “For what? Being such a charming pain in the aft?”   
  
“For stealing something without realizing its value,” Deadlock corrected and let Starscream withdraw this time. He knew Starscream too well.   
  
“You’re ridiculous.” Nevertheless, Starscream’s spark did warm. Deadlock’s concern for him was worth all the credits in the universe. “It’s hardly his fault. But I appreciate the thought.”   
  
“You could go after him, you know.”   
  
Starscream rolled his optics and slipped past Deadlock, leaving the energon room as he’d intended to do, and not at all surprised when Deadlock padded quietly after him. Scramble stayed behind, scooping up the crumbs Deadlock had dropped in his grazing.   
  
“No, thanks. If he’d wanted to stay, he would have.”   
  
“Starling, you’re not the most inviting mech. You probably practically threw him out, knowing you.”   
  
Starscream didn’t deign to dignify that with a retort. Even if it was true. He didn’t need distractions, damn it. He didn’t need the hope that Rodimus would stay, however thin it had been. He hadn’t given Rodimus a chance to say ‘no.’   
  
“I have work to do,” he said, without looking over his shoulder. “Kindly entertain yourself for a few hours, if you think you can manage that.”   
  
Deadlock snorted. “Yeah, sure. I can tell when I’m not wanted. I’ll just go down and have a soak. Me, myself, and I. And my hand.” He slipped past Starscream, wriggling his fingers in emphasis. “Alone.”   
  
“Yes, you’re going to self-service. And if you’re attempting to entice me into joining you, it’s not working,” Starscream said, rolling his optics.   
  
“Can’t blame me for trying.” Deadlock winked, bearing a fanged grin. “But if you change your mind...”   
  
“I know where to find you.”   
  
Starscream ignored the irresponsible thoughts that told him to follow and join Deadlock in the oil pool, to take his pleasures when he could.   
  
He had work to do. He had to focus on it. His work was the only thing that mattered.   
  
Nothing else.   
  


~

  
  
Rodimus shone like a newly sparked mech. His paint gleamed and sparkled in the light of the bonfire, and once upon a time, he would have been in the middle of the seething mass of mechs dancing and spinning around to the cheerful beat. He would have been laughing, darting from partner to partner, trying to sneak a grope or two maybe, and getting groped in return.   
  
The sense of celebration in the air was suffocating. The buffet table was laden with treats, savory and sweet, from Sideswipe’s fancy candies to puffy oil cakes and metal wafers, and big drums of high grade and sweetened juices for the younger mechs. Later, there would be a fireworks ceremony, courtesy of Flotsam and his love of all things explosive.   
  
Rodimus found himself hovering on the edges, however. He had a cube of high grade, the same one he’d started with, and only half-full besides. He sat on one of the benches scattered around for the elderly and easily fatigued. He sat alone.   
  
He watched everyone: the dancers, the chatters, those hanging out on the fringes, and those up to mischief as they huddled in a small group and whispered together. Even Warchief Megatron was here, a cup of high grade in one hand as he was deep in conversation with Soundwave. Sunstreaker was next to him, Megatron’s arm around his waist, resting casually on his lower back.   
  
Sometimes, he’d lean in to say something to Sunstreaker, who’d smirk around his own engex. Or Megatron’s lips would brush over Sunstreaker’s audial. Flirting in public, the gall Warchief had, but in the end, it was Megatron who blushed while Sunstreaker only looked more sly.   
  
Until Sideswipe came strutting by, clutching a cube of engex, a swagger in his step. He had the audacity to swat the Warchief’s aft with a wink, causing Megatron to startle and whip around, fixing Sideswipe with a glare. Sunstreaker was more demonstrative, socking his twin in the shoulder with a punch hard enough to dent Sideswipe’s armor.   
  
Sideswipe laughed it off, dodging the next swing. Megatron looked more amused than concerned. The twins, after all, made a habit of fighting and wrestling each other. Sunstreaker had yet to kill Sideswipe.   
  
Though the key word here was ‘yet’.   
  
It was nice, Rodimus mused, to see the three of them like this. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe and Megatron. They were all good for each other. The affection they felt was clear. The love and the trust.   
  
Rodimus’ spark twinged. He wanted it, too.   
  
He sipped at his energon and shifted his attention, if only to spare his feelings. He watched the dancers instead. He watched Springer and the other newly branded as they talked and laughed together, their brands shiny even at night.   
  
He found himself wandering if Starscream liked to dance. Probably not, he thought. Starscream didn’t seem like someone who enjoyed noise or crowds. He’d probably like the buffet table though, Rodimus thought with a snicker. Starscream did enjoy the treats Rodimus made.  
  
He probably wasn’t one for dancing though. Which was a shame. Rodimus thought he might like to see Starscream out there, glittering and grinning as he twirled and spun and wriggled with the beat. Or maybe he’d sit back and scowl about how noisy everyone was as he gorged on treats, probably hovering over the buffet table, staking claim on a plate of sour-sweet gummies.   
  
Rodimus grinned at the thought, Starscream hissing and snarling over anyone who came too close to the treats he favored. Maybe he’d even have one of his drones, probably Swift, beeping and honking in further threat.   
  
“Now there is a sight I’ve not seen as a late.”   
  
Rodimus startled, whipping around to see Optimus Prime approaching him. Rodimus leapt to his feet, hastening into a shallow bow.   
  
“Sir! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”   
  
Optimus waved off the apology. “Probably because I was being sneaky.” He gave Rodimus a conspiratorial look. “I’ve found that if I don’t, people spend far too much time worrying about being polite and proper, and not enough time having fun.”   
  
Rodimus blinked. “You’re the Prime, sir.” He shifted uneasily, feeling far more uncomfortable under Optimus’ stare than he did Megatron’s. There was something about Optimus, as though the weight of millenniums of experience peered back at Rodimus. “We should hold you to the highest respect.”   
  
“Mmm.” Optimus lowered himself to the bench Rodimus had just abandoned, leaving enough room for Rodimus beside him. “Centuries since we’ve lived in the city, and still some things linger like an untreatable rust infection.” He gave Rodimus a long look. “I am a mortal mech, and the only thing which makes me worthy is that I have earned the respect of others.”   
  
Rodimus shifted again, and felt his face flush. He dropped his gaze. “Yes, sir.”   
  
“That wasn’t meant as a chastisement, Rodimus. Merely an observation.” Optimus patted the bench beside him. “Come. Sit. I didn’t mean to take your bench from you.”   
  
Somehow, it felt less like an offer and more like a command. Rodimus sat, though cautiously. The last thing he needed was anyone accusing him of offending their Prime. Or insulting him. Or imposing himself. Or anything really.   
  
“You’re, uh, you’re not dancing?” Rodimus asked, trying not to squirm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen their Prime dancing. Soundwave was not one for letting loose either.   
  
Optimus accorded him a smile, which softened his more stern features. “Not at the moment, no. I haven’t a sense of rhythm, you see, and as large as I am, I fear many the flattened foot by the end of the evening.” He chuckled, low and soft. “Wrench might have my head yet.”   
  
Rodimus grinned, though he couldn’t imagine their stately leader being uncoordinated at anything. Still, it was an amusing mental image.   
  
“And there it is again,” Optimus said, tilting his head.   
  
Rodimus blinked. “What do you mean, sir?”  
  
“You’re smiling.”  
  
Heat stole into Rodimus’ cheeks. He resisted the urge to duck his head. “Yeah, I… uh...”   
  
“That wasn’t a chastisement either.” Optimus chuckled, and his gaze slid away, toward the happily spinning dancers. “You aren’t among them. Though I seem to recall you were often a participant in these celebrations. Am I mistaken?”   
  
Rodimus shook his head. “No. You remember correctly. I’m not in the mood for dancing, I guess.”   
  
“Mm.” There went another one of those non-committal noises. “Might that be because you expected to be among those who were granted their warrior’s badge today?”   
  
Humiliation burned at Rodimus’ finials. This time he did drop his gaze. “Yes, sir.” He stared down at his hands, watched his embarrassingly shiny fingers tangle together. “I’m sure you’ve heard all about my many failures.”   
  
“I did hear you’ve had something of an adventure, yes. Though I don’t recall there being any mention of failures,” Optimus conceded. His hands flattened on his thighs, fingers rapping a rhythm painfully off-beat to the music. “Why do you want to bear the warrior’s badge, Rodimus?”   
  
He startled, not expecting the blunt question. He fidgeted, picking at one of his seams. “It opens up things to me. Things I want. And well it’s the only thing I’m good at.”   
  
Optimus’ gaze turned back toward him again, and somehow it burned. “Is it really?”   
  
Somehow, Rodimus felt like he’d given the wrong answer. “Yes?” he said, though it didn’t sound as firm as he liked. “I mean, Springer’s one. Most of my batchmates are either sworn already, or are on their way. And warriors are important.”   
  
“Whereas civilians aren’t,” Optimus surmised, his tone carefully even.   
  
Oh, Primus. There he went, insulting the Prime, as he hadn’t meant to.   
  
Rodimus flushed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”   
  
“I know.” Optimus was silent for a long moment, his gaze on the dancers, his face in profile, stern but kind. “Megatron and I chose to leave the cities for many reasons, but one of which is that we were through with being judged by our function. And yet, we have somehow carried some of those traditions with us. We still divide ourselves with brands, giving ourselves labels, even when sometimes, some of us don’t fit into those walls.”  
  
Rodimus scrubbed his hands down his thighs. “But that’s the way people are though. We like to have ways to describe ourselves.”   
  
“True. But one must also consider that when presented with a choice of either and or, there leaves little room for those who are neither.”   
  
Rodimus blinked, something in Optimus’ tone suggesting that his words were very important. “What are you saying, sir?”   
  
Optimus audibly cycled a ventilation. “Sometimes we don’t know that there are other options until fate throws them into our path, seemingly by coincidence.”   
  
Rodimus squinted at him. “What?”   
  
Finally, those bright blue optics turned back toward him, almost frightening in their sincerity. “You did not repair yourself.”   
  
Rodimus’ mouth fell open. He fully intended to defend himself, defend his lie, truth be told, but Optimus held up a single hand.   
  
“I am not accusing you or intending to punish you, Rodimus,” he said. “This is merely an observation. We have no law against making friends with outsiders, even those of the Seeker persuasion. Indeed, if you are capable of seeing beyond the rumors and the horror stories, then this is something I wish to encourage.”   
  
There the heat was again, stealing into his face, making his internal temperature rise. “How did you guess?”   
  
Optimus chuckled. “Wrench was the first to suggest it had been Starscream, but I’d always suspected your story was not entirely made of truth.”   
  
“You know his name?”   
  
“Wrench informed me.” Again, Optimus laughed, though it was not so much jest as inner amusement. “They were acquainted, apparently, at some point.”   
  
Rodimus’ jaw dropped once more. He tried to imagine the surly medic interacting with Starscream, and all he could see was a disaster in the making.   
  
“You’ve been quite different since you’ve returned,” Optimus added, though his gaze wandered away again, as though he knew the effect it had on Rodimus. “As if your spark is no longer interested in the paths laid before you.”   
  
“Oh. That.” Rodimus hadn’t even realized Optimus noticed. After all, Rodimus was just a Firebrand, one of many unbranded mechs training and learning as they set their sights on which brand they wanted to bear.   
  
Rodimus scuffed one foot against the ground, watching the dancers as the music changed tempo, to something slow and sweet, forcing the eager singles to the periphery and the couples – mated or otherwise – to the center.   
  
“Just been doing a lot of hard thinking lately, I guess,” Rodimus admitted, something in his spark giving a hard  _pang_  as he watched the lovers swaying together. “My frame’s here, but my processor is back out in the desert, watching a Seeker hard at work. It was only a week, I don’t even know why I’m still thinking about him. Or what the point of it is.”   
  
“The point, I would assume, is that you want to see him again,” Optimus said quietly.   
  
Rodimus shook his head and stared down at his lap. “Even if I did, why would I? He likes his privacy. He was pretty darn eager to see me go. The last thing I want to do is intrude again.” He cycled a long ventilation. “Besides, my place is here. I belong here.”   
  
“Belonging is all a matter of the spark,” Optimus corrected and turned to face Rodimus entirely. “Rodimus if there is something – or someone – you want, you should allow yourself the opportunity to seek it. There is no greater regret than never knowing what answer you would have found.”   
  
Rodimus looked up at their spiritual leader and nibbled on his bottom lip. “So… you’re telling me that I should follow my spark?”   
  
“In more words, yes.” Optimus smiled, and it was so genuine and encouraging that Rodimus felt his own spark flutter. Especially when the Prime rested his hand on Rodimus’ shoulder. “We came to the wilds to be free, to choose for ourselves our fate, and not be obligated to any set path. If you find that yours isn’t here, then you are no more required to stay here than any other. Just know that there will always be a home for you here.”   
  
Rodimus’ spark fluttered. “Sideswipe said that, too.” He scratched at the side of his nose. “I guess I’m not very subtle, huh? Since everyone seems to know what I didn’t figure out until now.”   
  
Optimus squeezed his shoulder. “Sometimes, we are blind to the most important things.” His hand slid away, but his field wrapped around Rodimus, warm and encouraging. “You are free to make whatever decision you wish, Rodimus. Though if you do decide to follow your spark, you might want to tell Sunstreaker first.”   
  
Despite himself, Rodimus barked a laugh and gave Optimus a sidelong look. “He was that much a nuisance, I take it?”   
  
“He was very concerned for you,” Optimus confirmed and his optics sparkled. “And quite forceful in his defense of you. He had my brother in quite the mood.”   
  
Rodimus chuckled softly, suddenly feeling lighter than he thought possible. “So I’ve heard. I’ll tell him.” He rolled his shoulders. “I mean, if I decide to go. I still don’t see much of a point, but I guess I’ll never know if I don’t try.”   
  
“And I wish you luck.” Optimus rose to his feet, the smile on his lips shifting targets as he noticed his own bondmate across the way, beckoning to him. Megatron had been dragged to the dance floor by Sideswipe which left Soundwave on his lonesome. “With such a prospective mate, I am certain you will need it.”   
  
In that, like so many things, Optimus was right.   
  
Rodimus smiled as Optimus moved away, keeping to the periphery of the dancing crowd so as not to intrude, as he met up with Soundwave. They pressed their foreheads together, a brief and chaste moment of intimacy, before Soundwave tangled the fingers of his left hand with Optimus’ right. Something was spoken and off they went, vanishing into the crowd and the night. No doubt to join the celebration in their own way.   
  
Where Sunstreaker had gone, Rodimus didn’t know. But he banished thoughts of finding his dear friend and coaxing out a dance.   
  
Sunstreaker was not his to entice. Not that he’d ever truly been.   
  
Rodimus fiddled with his energon before he tipped it back and drained the cube. He had a decision to make. And he could not do so while sitting here.   
  
****


	11. Chapter 11

The sound of muffled cursing and dull thumping announced to Starscream that he was no longer alone. He debated with himself how he wanted to handle the intrusion before he decided it would be welcome.   
  
That was when Deadlock’s head popped into view, gold optics narrowed at first in confusion and then in relief. “There you are,” he said as he climbed up onto the roof through the skylight, just as Starscream had done. “Should’ve known you’d be up here.”   
  
“Am I that predictable?” Starscream asked as Deadlock settled next to him, their hips and thigh touching as their legs dangled over the edge, into the open expanse of the tower below them.   
  
“Only to someone who knows you as well as I do.” Deadlock grinned, his fangs glinting in the starlight. “Where’s Saunter?”   
  
Starscream lifted his hands, revealing the drone resting in his lap, not recharging but hibernating. “His glitch isn’t active while the skylight’s open. Silly thing.” He stroked his fingers over the top of Saunter’s frame.   
  
“He’s not the only silly thing.” Deadlock’s voice was rich with humor. He bumped shoulders with Starscream. “What’re you thinking about?”   
  
Starscream’s gaze turned skyward, to the constellations he could pick out, and the far horizon, coincidentally the direction he assumed Rodimus’ clan to be. “You know me so well. You tell me.”   
  
“I don’t think you want me to, Starling.”  
  
He nibbled on the inside of his cheek. “I just needed a break,” Starscream murmured. “I wasn’t making any progress on my work.”   
  
“Too distracted?”   
  
“I’m used to you.” Starscream flicked his wings. “You don’t count as a distraction anymore.”   
  
“So it’s internal thoughts then.” Deadlock nudged his left foot against Starscream’s right. “Wouldn’t happen to be a flame-painted Firebrand now would it?”   
  
Starscream vented a sigh.   
  
“That’s what I thought.” Deadlock rested a hand on Starscream’s thigh, less sly and arousing, and more comforting. “I know he got under your plating.”   
  
“I’m choosing not to acknowledge that,” Starscream replied. He stroked his fingers over Saunter’s frame again, though the drone continued to snooze. Above him, stars flickered and faded, grew brighter and dimmed. In front, the horizon was shadows and dark patches, mountains and flatlands.   
  
Maybe he should go for a flight.   
  
But later.   
  
Deadlock made a noncommittal noise.   
  
“I’m tired,” Starscream murmured on the end of a sigh. He tilted over, letting his head rest on Deadlock’s shoulder. Sometimes, one had to move on. He knew this better than most.   
  
His relationship with Blurr had been a sparkbreaking teacher. Sometimes, you could love someone with all you had, and have them return that love, but still have to separate. Sometimes, you had to make a choice, and love wasn’t enough.   
  
Deadlock’s head leaned against his. “I was thinking I’ll stay longer this time,” he murmured, his tone careful and measured.   
  
Starscream chose not to respond. From anyone else, he would have taken that as pity. Even now, he wasn’t sure it wasn’t.   
  
“It’s getting pretty lonely out there,” Deadlock added as his field nudged against Starscream’s, warm and syrupy. “So you know, maybe it’s good to stick around in one place every once in awhile.”   
  
Starscream offlined his optics. His hand stilled on Saunter’s top panel. “You’ll still leave.”   
  
“Maybe. But not so quickly at least.”   
  
It wasn’t pity. It had to be something else, that both of them didn’t dare name because that was precious and fragile and had to be guarded. Kalis had taught them as much.   
  
Starscream cycled a vent. “Stay as long as you like.”   
  
Deadlock pressed a kiss to the top of his head. It said enough, even without words.   
  


~

  
  
“So you’re going to leave without a word.”   
  
Rodimus’ shoulders hunched. He stared guiltily into the trunk under his berth as he dug through it, pulling out various items to stuff into an increasingly heavy travel pack. He didn’t look up at the voice, though he knew the large shadow blocking the doorway belonged to his batch-brother.   
  
“I didn’t know what to say,” Rodimus murmured and pulled out the stack of datapads so carefully hidden, shoving them into his pack as well. He didn’t leave much behind.   
  
Training weapons he didn’t need anymore. A few extra travel kits that would need to be restocked. Polishing kits. A couple of tarps too-small. Blankets for his berth. The next youngling to have this room and this berth could use all of it. This wouldn’t have been Rodimus’ room forever after all.   
  
Even if Starscream turned him down, even if there was nothing left for him in that tower, Rodimus didn’t intend to return to his clan. Not immediately at least.   
  
There was a whole world out there. Surely he could find his future somewhere. Surely.   
  
“That’s not an excuse.” Springer’s tone was both sharp and hurt. “Did you think I wouldn’t care if you vanished?”   
  
Rodimus sighed and braced his hands on the edge of the trunk. He looked at Springer, who blocked the door so completely, arms folded over his massive chassis. “You’re a warrior now. You don’t have to worry about me anymore. You have better things to do. I’d just get in the way.”   
  
“That’s not an answer!” Springer hissed, his face darkening with emotion, his field a thundercloud Rodimus couldn’t interpret.   
  
Rodimus worked his intake and slammed the trunk shut. He rose to his feet, nudging it back under the berth with his knee. “I was going to leave a note this time,” he said quietly.   
  
“A note,” Springer repeated, and he couldn’t have sounded so disgusted if he tried. “Yes, that makes everything better. A fragging  _note_.”   
  
Rodimus picked up his travel pack, giving it a shake. It was heavy, but nothing he couldn’t handle. “What would you want me to say? I don’t want you to try talking me out of it.”   
  
“Who said I would?”   
  
Rodimus scoffed and slung the bag over his shoulder, which creaked in protest. “I know you would. You think I can’t do anything right. That I need you to protect me.” He looked at his brother, who he loved dearly, and wondered just when he’d started to resent Springer a little. “You’d want me to stay for my own safety. Because I’m no good on my own. And you’re probably right.”  
  
He moved closer to Springer, his spark racing, and his engine whining as he made himself throttle it down. “But I’m still going. Because I have to do this. There’s nothing for me here right now, so I have to go find what I’m looking for.” He stared pointedly at the fresh brand on Springer’s chestplate. A brand he’d never earn.  
  
Springer looked sad. But he sighed and uncrossed his arms. “I’m not gonna stop you,” he said as he rested his hands on Rodimus’ shoulder, a heavy and familiar weight. “And you know I’ve always thought you were worth more than others said.”   
  
Rodimus squirmed under the praise.   
  
“If you think you need to go, then go. Just be careful, eh? And take care of yourself. You’re my favorite brother.” Springer squeezed again and then pulled him into an embrace, a spinal strut crushing one that forced out Rodimus’ vents and wrapped him in suffocating heat.   
  
It was wonderful.   
  
Tension seeped out of his frame. “I’m your only brother,” Rodimus grumbled, a common joke between them. He patted Springer awkwardly on the back. “Will you do me a favor then?”   
  
“What?” Springer’s tone took on that of suspicion as he let Rodimus go and stepped back, his optics narrowing.   
  
Rodimus turned and rooted around in his pack, pulling out the topmost datapad. “Would you give this to Sunstreaker for me?”   
  
“Oh, frag no.” Springer backed up a step, holding up his hands defensively. “You wanna skip out without telling the Warchief’s mates you’re not going, that’s your choice. But I’m not gonna be the one who hands them the goodbye note.”   
  
Rodimus snorted. “What? Are you scared?”   
  
“No, I’m just not an idiot.” Springer stepped aside, giving Rodimus room to leave, as though making him stay would have the letter forced on him. “I’m not ashamed to admit that either of them could kick my aft with ease.” He grinned with a confidence Rodimus knew all too well. “Though we’ll see what happens in a decade or two.”   
  
Rodimus snorted again and adjusted the strap of the pack on his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter how long has passed. You’ll never be able to take down Sunstreaker.” Or Sideswipe for that matter.   
  
Springer just grinned back at him, eerily similar to the toothy snarl the turbowolves had given him. “We’ll see.” Seriousness replaced his humor. “You’ll come back, won’t you?”   
  
“This is still home,” Rodimus replied, with what he hoped was a dismissive shrug. He didn’t want to end up emotional and second-guessing himself. “And if I fail, well, it’s the only place I can come back to.”  
  
“You won’t. Fail, I mean.” There was something dangerously close to pride in Springer’s tone. “You’re my brother. It’s impossible.”   
  
Rodimus smiled, soft and sincere. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”   
  
Springer stared at him, and then he suddenly grabbed Rodimus, pulling him into another hug that made his armor creak and his spark throb with affection. “Good luck,” he said, soft and gruff all at once, before he let Rodimus go and spun on a heelstrut, vanishing down the hallway opposite of the direction Rodimus needed to go.   
  
He caught himself smiling as he watched Springer’s back disappear around the corner. It was weird how he felt fully himself for the first time, now that he’d decided to abandon everything he’d been working hard to accomplish.   
  
Rodimus adjusted the pack on his shoulders and started down the corridor. He didn’t have to sneak out. Not truly. There was no rule that said he couldn’t leave if he wanted to. He’d used the cover of night the first time because he suspected someone would stop for him for his own safety. He was, after all, a Firebrand.   
  
He had the feeling now, however, that even if someone did see him leave, no one would say a word. There’d been encouragement in Optimus Prime’s words, and though Rodimus hadn’t spoken with Kup, he had the feeling the old mech would understand. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe already seemed to know what he was thinking. They’d pass it on to the Warchief, and no one would bar Rodimus’ way.   
  
He was sure of it.   
  
Of course, he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought. Because while he’d thought it was better for his spark to leave without seeing the twins, they must have read his processor. They waited for him at the side gate, the usual guards a fair enough distance away to offer an approximation of privacy, while still doing their jobs.   
  
Rodimus sighed. They spotted him before he considered spinning around and heading out the other side of the settlement. He wasn’t a coward, he told himself. And he’d made his choice.   
  
“Thought you could leave without saying goodbye, eh, hot shot?” Sideswipe said as he was the first to intercept Rodimus, literally sweeping him up into a hug that lifted his feet clear from the ground. “Not this time.”   
  
Sideswipe set Rodimus down with a processor-spinning thump before digging in his subspace. “Not to mention I’m not letting you go without a gift.” A sack emerged, which he thrust in Rodimus’ direction. “Treasure it always. It’s not just anyone I’ll give one of my secret recipes.” He winked.   
  
Heat stole into Rodimus’ face. “Thanks, Sides.” He took the sack, tying the extra strings onto a projection on his pack. “And well… it’s complicated.” His gaze slid briefly to Sunstreaker before dropping to the sand. “I chose to leave, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t things I’m going to miss.”   
  
“Things,” Sideswipe echoed and sidled in next to Rodimus, slipping an arm around his waist to lean his head on Rodimus’ shoulder. “Or maybe a couple of hot-aft mechs who keep things interesting, hm?”   
  
Rodimus chuckled. “Yeah. Maybe.” He leaned into Sideswipe, soaking up his friend’s heat, and indulging in the touch of their fields, the playful nudge of Sideswipe’s, and the affection swirled in it. He loved Sideswipe, too. Just not in the same way.   
  
“You’re lucky we know you better than you think we do,” Sunstreaker said, his voice soft, but the words sharp enough to sound like a chastisement. “I’d hate to have to chase you into the desert just to kick your aft.”   
  
Rodimus winced.   
  
Sideswipe clicked his glossa. “Sunny, that’s not the way we show we care.”   
  
“Yes, it is,” Rodimus said with a forced chuckle even as Sunstreaker glared at his brother, who slipped his arm out from Rodimus’ waist and held up his hands.   
  
“Don’t hate the messenger,” Sideswipe said, nudging Rodimus with his elbow. “Besides, hot shot knows better now, doesn’t he?”   
  
Rodimus nodded. “I wrote a note,” he said, fumbling with the datapad in this subspace. “Kind of glad it didn’t come to that now.”   
  
“Some things need to be spoken,” Sunstreaker said, with a surprising acuity few knew him capable.   
  
“And that’s my cue,” Sideswipe said. He grabbed Rodimus’ hand, tangling their fingers together and giving it a squeeze. “Take care of yourself out there, Roddy. You don’t want to break our sparks, okay?”   
  
“I learned from the best, didn’t I?” Rodimus replied.   
  
Sideswipe grinned and pressed a kiss to Rodimus’ cheek, one that lingered as if he put all of his affection into it. He squeezed Rodimus’ hand again. “Got your back, hot shot,” he said, and then he pulled away, taking the swirling warmth of his field with him. “We’ll keep a berth for you.”   
  
Sideswipe winked, tossed his brother a knowing look, and then he strode away, a whistle on his lips, nonchalance in the set of his shoulders. Rodimus watched him go, spark simultaneously fluttering and squeezing.   
  
What came next was one of the hardest things Rodimus ever had to do.   
  
He looked at Sunstreaker and prepared himself to say goodbye, while his spark felt too big for its casing. He fidgeted, knowing he should speak, but too many words crowding on his glossa. He wished he had managed to escape and leave the datapad, with the carefully crafted note behind.   
  
He swallowed over a lump in his intake. “Sunny…” Words failed him. He wished he could just shove the datapad into Sunstreaker’s hand and flee into the night.   
  
“I’m glad,” Sunstreaker closed the distance between them, his hands gently cupping the curve of Rodimus’ intake and jaw. “I am glad that you found someone worth risking your spark.”   
  
It’s too hard to look into his optics. So Rodimus didn’t, instead dropping his gaze as he cycled a ventilation. “I think I’ve lost count of the times I’d wondered what would have happened if things were different.”  
  
He didn’t elaborate on ‘things’. Sunstreaker already knew. It was this unspoken secret, this unacknowledged thing between them, growing heavier and heavier with each passing season, until it became too large for words and too hard to declare.   
  
“There is no different.” Sunstreaker’s voice was quiet. “Things happened the way they were meant to.”   
  
Somehow, Rodimus always knew that.   
  
“That doesn’t make it any less valid or valuable though,” Sunstreaker added, his thumbs sweeping a soft pattern over the curve of Rodimus’ cheek. “I do love you, Rodimus. Just...”   
  
“Not the way that makes you mine,” Rodimus finished for him, and managed a smile, despite it cracking around the edges. “I know. And it’s okay. As it turns out, I seem to have a thing for mercurial Seekers anyway.”   
  
Sunstreaker chuckled and pulled their heads together, pressing his forehead to Rodimus’. “I’ll want to meet him someday, you know. Just to be sure he’s good enough for you.”   
  
“If I can convince him to keep me, I’ll make it happen.”   
  
“You will.” Sunstreaker’s optics shuttered, and he cycled a ventilation. “If this Seeker has any sense, he’ll know better than to let you go.”   
  
The lump in Rodimus’ intake grew larger. “Yeah, I hope so.”   
  
Sunstreaker huffed a laugh and pulled back, unshuttering his optics. “You’ll come back to visit.” It wasn’t a question.   
  
“Of course.” Rodimus smiled, easier this time, less broken around the edges, and smoother, like reforged transsteel.   
  
Sunstreaker’s fingers slipped away, though the warmth of their touch lingered. “I have something for you,” he said, before he dug around in his subspace and produced a bag not unlike the one Sideswipe had offered. “So you don’t forget me.”   
  
“As if I ever could.” Rodimus accepted the bag, and coughed his ventilations as heat colored his face. “And uh, this is for you.” He offered up the datapad. It did have a note especially for the twins on it, but it was also a collection of the romantic tales Rodimus knew Sunstreaker didn’t have in his collection.   
  
“Keep it hidden from Sides,” Rodimus added with a little laugh as Sunstreaker tucked the datapad into his subspace. “You know how he likes to tease.” As if Sideswipe wasn’t any less guilty given those terrible detective novels he consumed like cheap engex.   
  
“I do.” Sunstreaker’s lips pulled into a soft smile, one that few had been treated to seeing. “Good luck, Rodimus. Not that I think you’ll need it. You’re an easy mech to love.”   
  
Rodimus’ spark throbbed so hard he felt the crystal structure tremble. Words, again, were unhelpful, traitorous things. So he threw himself at Sunstreaker, into the gold mech’s arms, and felt himself wrapped in a tight embrace. He thought Sunstreaker was shaking, but maybe he imagined it.   
  
“You better go,” Sunstreaker said. “Or I might ask you to stay.”   
  
Rodimus forced himself to pull back, and was glad he did, because he caught something in Sunstreaker’s expression. Something he couldn’t define, that shaded his best friend’s optics a darker hue and filled his field with determination. Then Sunstreaker leaned in and Rodimus didn’t evade, giving in to the brief brush of their lips together.   
  
It barely counted as a kiss.   
  
It was definitely a goodbye.   
  
Sunstreaker retreated, sooner than Rodimus would have liked, but not soon enough for the ache in his spark. Sometimes, it was harder to let something go that hadn’t definitively ended. Or perhaps because it had.   
  
“Be safe,” Sunstreaker murmured.   
  
“Be happy,” Rodimus countered, and didn’t even have to look behind him or over his shoulder to know that Sideswipe and Megatron hovered just inside the entrance of the settlement, watching. Not with jealousy but concern.   
  
They’d take care of things on this end.   
  
Now it was up to Rodimus to take care of himself.   
  
“Ask me something hard,” Sunstreaker said.   
  
Rodimus grinned. He tucked Sunstreaker’s gift into his subspace, to go through it later, and made himself dash through the open gate, before his spark made him linger. Before his determination faltered and he second-guessed his choices.   
  
The easier choice was to stay in the settlement, to grapple with his failures, his unrequited love, and settle for whatever was left. He could bury his hopes, his dreams, and be satisfied with whatever lot life would give him.   
  
Or he could take this chance. He could plunge back into the Barrens, find Starscream’s tower, and see if the Seeker would let him stay. See if there was a future with Starscream, one full of adventure and curiosities and challenge.   
  
Rodimus had never been one to take the easy way out. He certainly wasn’t going to start now.   
  
So into the Barrens he descended.   
  
He didn’t know what his future was going to hold, and for once, that uncertainty didn’t frighten the Pit out of him.   
  
If anything, it set him free.   
  


****


	12. Chapter 12

There was a buzzing in his audials. A persistent, irritating, buzzing.   
  
Starscream growled and batted at it absently, but struck nothing. He frowned harder and surfaced from his calculations, just as the buzzing turned into both words and a low, persistent chime.   
  
“What the frag is that noise?” he asked, to no one in particular. It wasn’t as though he expected his drones to answer.   
  
“I think someone’s at the front gate.”   
  
Starscream startled and whipped around. Primus all mighty! He’d forgotten Deadlock was in the laboratory with him, a fact which amused his friend greatly as Deadlock burst into laughter and uncoiled himself from the seductive lounge he’d assumed. He rose to his pedes, stretching his arms over his head.   
  
“Or am I wrong?” Deadlock asked with a cheeky grin.   
  
Starscream shook himself and shuffled over a few steps, tapping his claws over the console to bring up his security system. His joints protested, reminding him that he’d been bent over his desk for the better part of the day.   
  
Ouch.   
  
But the blinking indicator on the screen did not lie. There was indeed someone pinging his front entrance. Someone who had walked right through his concealing hologram, so either they got lucky or knew exactly where to look.   
  
Starscream sighed. “It’s probably another Firebrand thinking to berth the Warlock of the Wastelands.” Perhaps Rodimus had lied and spilled his internals after all.   
  
Starscream rolled his optics. He should have known better than to trust a clanling.   
  
“I’ll handle it.” Deadlock flashed his fangs, his optics gleaming. He said that with a little too much glee, in Starscream’s opinion, but whatever entertained.   
  
Starscream waved him off. “Feel free. You’ve been lazing around here anyway. Might as well earn your keep.”   
  
“I thought I did that by fragging you,” Deadlock purred as he leaned in, nipping on Starscream’s audial.   
  
He was far too fast, however, for the smack Starscream tried to give him. Deadlock danced out of the way, and right out of the laboratory, off to do his duty of chasing away whatever unwanted guest had come. That he left with a laugh was just topper on the oilcake.   
  
Starscream sighed and tried to get back to work, though amusement now tugged at him. Trust Deadlock to remember all the best ways to pull him out of his head. Though, frag it all, he’d completely lost his place in his equations now.   
  
Not that it was as big of a concern now as it had been back when that Firebrand, Rodimus, had been here. Starscream’s systems were purring like a well-oiled machine, high on Rodimus and Deadlock’s code alike.   
  
So long as Deadlock was here, Starscream could take it easy. And feel a little less lonely. He hadn’t realized how empty his home and laboratory were. How much the sounds echoed. Not even his drones could fill the silence.   
  
Starscream often talked to himself in lieu of conversation with another sentient being, honestly. Not that Rodimus was the epitome of intelligence, but he’d been entertaining. Humorous. Charming when he didn’t try so hard.   
  
Starscream scrubbed a hand down his face. This was pointless. He was ridiculous. Mooning over some pretty Firebrand who was no doubt already riding high on his bragging, sprinting eagerly toward that branding ceremony he so desperately wanted. Compared to that, what did Starscream have to offer, here in isolation maintained by fear and cheap theatrics?   
  
His comm chirped.  _‘Star.’_    
  
“What?” he demanded, both aloud and over the comm. “Is one lost clanling too much for you to handle?”   
  
 _‘No, you aft,_ ’ Deadlock replied, no offense in his tone. ‘ _You have a visitor.’_    
  
Starscream set down his stylus with an annoyed click and turned away from the table. “I’m aware of that. You’re supposed to be chasing them away.”   
  
‘ _Not this one._ ’  
  
Aggravation peaked. If this was another one of Deadlock’s not at all hilarious jump scares, Starscream was going to rip his spike off for real this time. He did not appreciate being startled.   
  
He stalked out of his laboratory and didn’t bother with the slowly spiraling ramp. Instead, he leapt over the edge of the railing, and with carefully directed bursts of his thrusters, dropped down to the ground floor.   
  
“This had better be important,” he snarled as he came around the bannister, hands drawing into slow fists. “I’m not in the mood to--”  
  
A mech stood in the doorway. A very familiar mech, in painfully bright shades of red and orange and yellow, though some of it had been scoured away by heat and sun. A familiar cloak sat across his shoulders, less frayed since it had been patched, and he carried a bag slung over one of his shoulders.   
  
“Like I said,” Deadlock drawled from where he’d stepped aside, as though making it a point that Rodimus would be the first thing Starscream saw. “It’s for you.”   
  
Starscream flicked his wings. “I can see that,” he said curtly, and told his fool spark to stop beating frantically. “What are you doing here?”   
  
Rodimus’ smile slipped, but didn’t fade entirely. He fidgeted. “I was in the neighborhood,” he said, but if he was trying to be flippant, it fell flat. “And I realized, you know, I left something behind.”   
  
Starscream’s optics narrowed. He’d all but scrubbed his tower from top to bottom and he’d gathered everything Rodimus had forgotten, most of it scraps that he’d assumed were meant to be discarded. Unless, of course, Rodimus meant the little carvings. Starscream might have mistaken those to be gifts.   
  
Too bad. They were his now. He refused to return them.   
  
“Oh, really? And what was that?” Starscream asked, folding his arms over his cockpit. Did he look defensive? Probably. Did he care?   
  
Not one frag.   
  
Rodimus fidgeted again. “It was… uh...” His optics slid toward Deadlock as he gnawed on his bottom lip. The hand holding the strap of his bag tightened. “I mean...”   
  
“Just spit it out, Rodimus. In case you’ve forgotten, I am a busy mech,” Starscream snapped, without caring how rude he sounded. Or how Rodimus flinched.   
  
The brightness of the Firebrand’s optics dimmed before he shook his head. “Oh, slag it,” he muttered, and dropped his bag with a dull thunk. He strode inside as though he had the right, like he belonged.   
  
Starscream scarcely had time to blink, much less contemplate Rodimus’ strange behavior, before the distance between them was nothing. Rodimus’ hands cupped his face, his mouth falling over Starscream’s in a rushed, desperate kiss.   
  
Starscream’s optics widened. He might have squeaked. Rodimus’ glossa never touched his, but the pressure of his mouth was warm and firm, the stroke of his field equally so. His fingers held Starscream so gently, and then the kiss was over, Starscream’s lips tingling in the aftermath.   
  
Words escaped him.   
  
Starscream stared, surprised, his lips parted as Rodimus looked at him, probably expectant. His hands slid away from Starscream’s face, his field shifting from determined to uncertain. And it only darkened further the longer Starscream said nothing.   
  
His processor had flat-lined. Logic failed him.   
  
Rodimus had kissed him. Kissed him like it meant something. Like he’d been wanting to do that for a long, long time. Like Starscream was someone precious he’d missed.   
  
“I… uh… I’m sorry,” Rodimus stammered, his optics slanting toward Deadlock nervously. His armor clamped as if awaiting an attack. “Should I not have done that?”   
  
Starscream’s glossa swept over his lips, but the kiss had not been enough to let a taste linger. They hadn’t kissed before. He hadn’t known it could be so sweet.   
  
“You kissed me.”   
  
Rodimus cycled his optics. “Yes.”   
  
“Why?”   
  
“Isn’t it obvious?” Rodimus asked, and he shifted from foot to foot, still side-eying Deadlock nervously. “Isn’t that what one mech does when he likes another one? Though considering I’m still trying to figure out if you’re going to punch me or not, maybe I’m wrong.”   
  
Deadlock laughed, and it came out more of a wheeze, as though it was all the laugh he’d allow himself. “He ain’t gonna deck ya, kid.”   
  
“I’m not so sure about that,” Rodimus retorted, and he looked at Starscream again, something painfully earnest in his voice. “Please, say something? I mean, if I was out of line, I’m sorry, and I’ll leave now.”   
  
Starscream shook his head. “You surprised me,” he said, and his lips quirked into a smirk, relying on it to cover up the way his spark was suddenly pulsing a faster rhythm. “And that barely qualifies as a kiss.”   
  
Rodimus’ mouth dropped, and it was Starscream’s turn to take him by surprise, to hook his fingers in the jut of Rodimus’ chestplate and yank the Firebrand close to him. Their mouths clashed together, with more fire, more pressure, and Starscream introduced his glossa, let it ask permission before Rodimus’ joined the fray.   
  
He tasted like grit and mid-grade, but it was the heat of the kiss, the eagerness of it, that made Starscream’s circuits sing. A low sound rose in his intake, and Starscream didn’t dare identify it. Instead, he ended the kiss, pulling back slowly, his glossa sweeping over his lips as though trying to hold on to the feeling.   
  
They stared at each other, Rodimus a little dazed, Starscream still struggling to find the words that wouldn’t betray him. He had so much to say, and was wary of all of it.   
  
“Okay,” Rodimus finally said, and his field unfurled, pressing up against Starscream’s in warm entreaty. “You’re right. That was a better kiss.”   
  
Deadlock snorted a laugh.   
  
Starscream’s lips curved. “Yes, it was.” He loosened his grip on Rodimus’ chestplate. The awkwardness was setting back in, and he wasn’t sure how to address it.   
  
He ignored it for the moment, moving past Rodimus to hit the panel for the door to close. Bursts of wind had swept a thin layer of sand over the entry floor. He could already hear the zoom and beep of approaching drones – Scurry and Scamper most likely. Though if Scuttle had any indication Rodimus was here, it would make an appearance, too.   
  
“So I’ll just leave you two to talk,” Deadlock said, his voice weirdly loud in the awkward silence, or perhaps because of it. He was already backing away from them. “Star, I’ll be in my room if you need me. Firebrand? You watch yourself.”   
  
Rodimus twitched when Deadlock addressed him, and offered a nod of understanding. Deadlock patted Starscream on the shoulder, with a little squeeze, and then he turned for the ramp, climbing upward.   
  
“He’s very protective of you,” Rodimus observed, perhaps meant to be a statement, but Starscream read the question in his voice. If there was jealousy in his voice, Starscream wondered if he imagined it.   
  
“We escaped the cities together.” Starscream folded his arms over his cockpit and circled around Rodimus, facing him once more. “We’re protective of each other. But if you’re trying to ask whether or not we’re mates, the answer is ‘no’.”   
  
“Oh.”   
  
Starscream sighed and scrubbed at his face, unsure how to catalogue Rodimus’ comment. “Why did you come back, Rodimus? What did you hope to accomplish?”   
  
“I thought the kiss was self-explanatory.” He rubbed the back of his head, gaze drifting downward. “I spent this whole time trying to forget you, and I failed. So I came back to see if you felt the same way.”  
  
He wanted to believe the Firebrand. And yes, Rodimus was still a Firebrand as far as Starscream could tell. He bore no brand save the usual markings that identified his clan and family unit.   
  
“Or maybe you needed proof of your dalliance with the Deathbringer,” Starscream drawled with another slow circle around Rodimus. He hadn’t survived this long by being stupid.   
  
Rodimus’ optics widened with genuine distress. “No!” He shook his head and slashed a hand through the air. “That’s not it at all. I didn’t even tell anyone I found you. I mean, yeah, Wrench seemed to figure it out pretty quick, and I had to tell Sunny or he would’ve given me that sad look, and I think Optimus is prescient or something, but I swear I kept your secret where it matters!”   
  
“Wrench?” Starscream blinked and a little laugh burbled out of him. “That rusty old aft is still functioning? Primus, I thought he had one foot in the Pit even when I met him a century ago!” Come to think of it, Rodimus had mentioned the name before but for some reason, it hadn’t registered then.   
  
Rodimus’ finials twitched. “You know him?”   
  
“Of course I do! He helped me find this place, and taught me enough medical skills to get by.” Starscream gestured at Rodimus’ abdomen, which clearly benefited from seeing an actual medic compared to Starscream’s amateur attempts. He could hardly tell that Rodimus had been injured. “How else do you think I knew how to patch you up?”   
  
Rodimus shrugged and gave Starscream a sheepish look. “Code-stealer,” he said, echoing the many, many titles Starscream had acquired out here. “I figured you just, I dunno, absorbed it from someone.”  
  
“Absorbed?” Starscream burst into laughter, the idea of it so absurd he couldn’t fathom anything else. “That’s not how it works!”   
  
Rodimus’ face heated. “Well, I don’t know!” He crossed his arms, spoiler lifting up and down. “It’s not like they teach Seeker customs or anything.” He huffed a ventilation, embarrassment wafting in his field. He stared hard at the ground, heat sparking his finials.   
  
If he wasn’t still so damn adorable…   
  
Starscream’s grin widened, and the tension started to ease away. He believed Rodimus. He wasn’t sure why he did, but if Wrench liked the kid, Starscream supposed the rust-aft knew what he was doing. Wrench was a decent judge of character.   
  
Still.  
  
“I’ll explain later,” Starscream said, and tried to steer the conversation back on track. Rodimus had just admitted that several mechs knew of Starscream. “Who is Optimus?”   
  
“Our Prime,” Rodimus answered, his shoulders still hunched. “Sort of our spiritual and civilian leader, I guess.”   
  
Starscream tilted his head. “And he figured out you’d met me?” Should he consider himself in danger? Did this Optimus believe Starscream to be a threat?   
  
“I guess I’m not as good a liar as I think I am. I told everyone I ran into another clan and they helped fix me up.” Rodimus shrugged, his field retreating back into his frame, as misery leaked out. “It wasn’t hard to get people to believe that I’d gotten myself into trouble, in over my head, and as a result, failed at everything I set out to do.”   
  
Starscream stepped closer. “But you didn’t fail.” His spark squeezed. Rodimus had not bragged. The irritating, arrogant Firebrand could have boasted about all manner of things, but he’d opted to conceal Starscream entirely. Or, well, as much as he could at any rate.   
  
Rodimus huffed a ventilation and rolled his optics. He looked up, making a broad gesture at his own chestplate. “Do you see a brand on my chassis?”   
  
That rankled. Or it hurt. Maybe both. It felt like a smack to the face, a reminder that he wasn’t good enough either. That people left him for a reason.   
  
“Good to know I’m a last resort.” Starscream arched an orbital ridge, holding onto his composure with a thin thread.   
  
Rodimus went still, his optics wide with horror. “That’s not what I meant!” he spluttered. His mouth opened and closed as though he were going to argue further, but couldn’t find the words.   
  
Starscream sighed and scrubbed at his forehead. “And if you’d gotten the brand you wanted, would you even be here right now?” That, indeed, was the important question.   
  
Silence.   
  
Starscream dropped his hand and stared at the Firebrand, whose gaze had once more dropped. Rodimus gnawed on his lower lip, hands fisted at his side. At least he hadn’t blurted out a false answer. But he hadn’t immediately responded in the positive either.   
  
“That’s what I thought.” Starscream spun on a heelstrut so he wouldn’t have to look at Rodimus and betray the disappointment building in his own expression. “I live out here alone because I want to. I had grown fond of your company, yes. And I had been feeling lonely. But I have more self-respect than to be some kind of consolation prize.”   
  
It would hurt, but what in Starscream’s functioning hadn’t been pain? He’d survived slavery. He’d survived city life. He’d survived countless foreign planets in search of fertile grounds to seed.   
  
He’d survive this, too.   
  
Rodimus’ engine growled. “That’s not what you are. That’s not what I meant.” Air hissed from his vents. “Yeah, okay. I didn’t make warrior. I didn’t earn my brand, but I also didn’t try very hard. I wanted it for all the wrong reasons anyway.”   
  
Starscream folded his arms and drew his armor in tight. “I’m listening.” Not that it would change anything. He wasn’t going to be anyone’s back-up plan. Either he mattered, or he didn’t. He refused to tread the line.   
  
“I just… I wanted to be important, okay?” Rodimus said, his vocals taking on something like a plea. “To feel like I finally belonged, that I mattered. And warriors, they’re important. They’re special. They earn things.”   
  
Starscream nibbled on his bottom lip. There was yearning in Rodimus’ tone, something beyond wanting a brand. Something, perhaps, he’d lost because he hadn’t been branded.   
  
“And I’m just not good at anything else!” Rodimus added with a fierceness to his voice that sounded pained. “Though I’m barely good at fighting. My brother, now he’s the warrior. Springer’s going to be Warchief someday. Everyone says so. And here I am, the frag up. Always left behind. Good, but never good enough.”   
  
Rodimus ex-vented loudly, his armor creaking. “But when I was here, I didn’t have to pretend. You didn’t know anything about me. I could just be me, and I was, and yeah, you were annoyed to have company, but you weren’t annoyed because it was me. And when we finally started talking, you actually looked at me. Talked to me. It was the first time I ever felt like I was me.”  
  
Starscream slowly turned. It was a babbling mess, but it was earnest. It was honest. And it resonated inside of Starscream, making his spark ache.   
  
Rodimus stared at the floor, seeing without seeing, his optics bright and pained. His hands were fists at his side, his spoiler halves vibrating.   
  
“I thought I belonged with my clan, that’s the way things were supposed to be, but as soon as I was gone, all I could think about was how much I wanted to be back here. With you.” Rodimus worked his intake and lifted his gaze. “I don’t know if that would have changed if I’d earned my badge. I don’t know if that would change how I felt about where I belonged. But I do know that I never felt like I mattered until I was here with you.”   
  
Rodimus shook his head. “I know that doesn’t make any sense. I was only here for a week and half the time, I was a little brat. But that’s the way things go sometimes.” His lips curved, but it wasn’t a genuine smile. “You’re not a last resort, Starscream. I left everything I know behind because I chose to. I chose you.”   
  
The words echoed around him.   
  
“Why?” Starscream asked and surprised himself with how hushed his voice was. As equally pained and desperate as Rodimus’ own. “I have nothing to offer. I’m a Seeker. I’m meant to be disposable. Any member of your clan is worth more than the greatest of us, in the optics of the citylings.”   
  
Rodimus shook his head fiercely. “I don’t believe that, and I know you don’t either.” He lurched forward, hands lifting before he seemed to think better of it, and he tucked them back at his side. “You’re the most intelligent, fascinating, and amazing mech I’ve ever met. Don’t let anyone else make you think otherwise.”   
  
Warmth flooded Starscream and made his spark flutter and thank Primus, Deadlock had gone upstairs. Because he’d tease Starscream for years if he saw even an inch of the pleasure that suddenly lit up his face.   
  
Maybe Rodimus was lying. Maybe this was all some clever, clanling ploy. Maybe Rodimus was just as confused now as he had been when he left, and he still didn’t really know what he wanted.   
  
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.   
  
The uncertainty didn’t stop Starscream from closing the distance between them. From curling one hand around Rodimus’ arm and the other cupping Rodimus’ face. It didn’t stop him from pausing long enough to search Rodimus’ optics before he leaned in and slanted his mouth over Rodimus’ again.   
  
It felt so good to kiss Rodimus. So right. The Firebrand’s code still hummed within him, twisted and tangled with his own. Rodimus’ field brushed against his, warm and hopeful, yearning. He made a muffled sound and Starscream deepened the kiss, tasting him again, pressing their frames together, smelling the rust desert around Rodimus. His spark did cartwheels, whirling around in his chassis, and he dared call it delight.   
  
He was glad that Rodimus came back.   
  
Starscream ended the kiss and pressed his forehead to Rodimus’, feeling Rodimus jitter against him. “I believe you,” he said.   
  
Relief exited Rodimus in a whoosh of ex-vent. “I’m glad.”  
  
Starscream grinned and pulled back. “Come. Let’s get you some energon.” His hand slid down Rodimus’ arm, his fingers tangling with Rodimus’ slack ones. Sand and grit scratched at his paint, but he’d worry about that later.   
  
Rodimus stared at him. “I don’t have to leave?”   
  
Starscream squeezed his hand. “No.” He tugged, pulling Rodimus with him toward the lift, rather than take the ramp upward. “You can stay as long as you want to.”   
  
“What if I never want to leave?”   
  
Starscream’s spark throbbed. He hoped his tone managed to stay even. “Then I suppose I better get used to having a roommate.”   
  
Rodimus squeezed his hand. “Guess so.” His field reached for Starscream’s, tentative at first, but gaining in confidence as it nudged warmly at Starscream’s.   
  
He relented, letting the presence of the Firebrand wrap around him, still that odd mix of stranger and familiarity. The lift took them upward, Rodimus’ fingers still entangled with his own, as though he didn’t want to let go.   
  
“Or, uh, two roommates, I guess,” Rodimus ventured as the lift stopped and rattled open, depositing them on the third level. “Since Deadlock is here…?”  
  
More question than statement.   
  
Starscream snorted. “He’s here. But he doesn’t stay. He comes back, however, so don’t think it’ll be the last you see of him.”   
  
“He lives here?”   
  
“Inasmuch as he ‘lives’ anywhere.” Starscream shrugged, and hoped he sounded more casual than he felt. “Deadlock wanders. It’s what he does.”   
  
He didn’t let go of Rodimus until they were in the energon room. He nudged the Firebrand toward the table as he moved to find something for him to drink. Probably mid-grade, given how rough his engine sounded.   
  
Scramble immediately beeped into view, crashing into the left side of Rodimus’ foot. The clanling bent down to pat the drone before he slipped into a seat.   
  
“That’s pretty impressive,” Rodimus said. “For a former cityling to survive out here, all alone, without a clan to support him. He must be a great warrior.”   
  
“He may have lived in the city, but he’s no cityling. Not with the life he lived.” Starscream chuckled. “And to hear him say it, he is a great warrior. Compliment him enough, and he might deign to spar with you.”   
  
“Really?” Rodimus perked up. His optics brightened with that glow Starscream had long come to recognize as enthusiasm.   
  
Primus, he was adorable.   
  
“You’ll have to ask him.” Starscream said rummaged through the storage bin, seeking out the flavors he knew Rodimus had been fond of. As he did, his elbow jostled a very familiar box, and it went tumbling out before he could catch it.   
  
The box hit the ground, and Scramble came thundering across the floor, nearly running over the box in its haste to clean up what it perceived as a mess. Thereby calling more attention to it.   
  
Frag.   
  
“Hey, are those the treats I made?” Rodimus leaned around the edge of the table to look, getting a good glimpse before Starscream swept up the box and crammed it back into storage. “You still have them?”   
  
Embarrassment tugged at Starscream’s field. He filed it down and away. “There aren’t many left,” he admitted as he finally located the rust sprinkles and closed the bin with his hip. “I’m many things, but the chemistry of candies is beyond me.”   
  
He would not mention the two pans he’d burned to slag in an attempt to recreate the tasty treats. Rust sticks he could handle. They were a matter of patience. The sweet and gooey treats Rodimus made were another matter entirely.   
  
“You were saving them?”   
  
Starscream dropped a cube in front of Rodimus and sprinkled it liberally with rust before he slid into his own chair. “Trying to make them last, more like.”   
  
Rodimus beamed at him. “I’ll make more,” he said. He tugged his energon close and sipped at it. “Sides even showed me a couple new recipes and maybe you’ll like those, too.”   
  
“Sides?” There was affection in the way Rodimus said the name. Starscream refused to admit the tiny curl of jealousy that bobbed in his spark then.   
  
“A friend,” Rodimus clarified. “He’s a warrior, but making treats is kind of his signature thing. Everyone loves them.”   
  
Starscream’s lips curled lightly. “I’ll bet they do.” He paused and considered. “Is he going to come looking for you?”  
  
Rodimus sipped on his midgrade, still looking as though he expected to get thrown out the door any moment now.   
  
He shook his head. “No. Maybe.”   
  
Starscream’s optics narrowed. “Clarify.”   
  
“I told Sunstreaker I was leaving and where I was going, so he’s not going to send out a search party,” Rodimus explained and looked into his cube as though it held the secrets of the universe. “But, I don’t know, he might come anyway. Just to check on me.”   
  
Starscream frowned. Rodimus had mentioned a brother. But he thought that mech’s name was Springer. Was Sunstreaker perhaps the ‘Sunny’ Rodimus had mentioned earlier?  
  
“And Sunstreaker is…?”  
  
“The Warchief’s mate. Or well, one of them anyway. His spark-twin is Sideswipe, and they both mated our Warchief.” Rodimus toyed with the cube, his attention suddenly skittering off to the side, as if Scramble’s dejected circle around the floor was fascinating to him. “They’re the closest thing I have to a best friend.”   
  
Friend, hmm?   
  
Starscream wasn’t constructed yesterday. He knew that tone, that flush in a field. He knew longing and regret when he heard it.   
  
He leaned back, studying Rodimus closely. “You said being a warrior would have earned you things.”  
  
Rodimus nodded and tipped back the cube, swallowing half of it quickly. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not the only way to go, but it’s what I had my best shot at.”   
  
Starscream tilted his head. “Uh-huh. And would it have gotten you those twins as a mate?”   
  
Rodimus’ optics widened. His face heated until it turned pink, which was a lovely color on him, but it also was all the answer Starscream needed. He ducked his head, finials twitching.   
  
“It’s not like it would have been a reward or anything. It’s just maybe they would have actually seen me if I had the badge.” His shoulders hunched as he sighed a vent. “But then, what am I compared to the Warchief?”   
  
Starscream frowned. Rodimus’ self-esteem was a tattered thing. “Romance might have never been in the stars for you three, but don’t discount the value of that friendship either. I suspect even with a badge, they’d have never been yours.”   
  
Rodimus’ head ducked so far, Starscream could only see the top of it. He toyed with the energon, curling into himself.   
  
“And you should consider yourself lucky that this Sunstreaker cares enough to be worried for your wellbeing,” Starscream added.   
  
“I do.” Rodimus in-vented heavily and looked up. “Deadlock’s like that for you, I take it? He seems pretty, um, attached.”   
  
“We have a history. We’ve been through a lot together.” Starscream tried not to smirk at the jealousy in Rodimus’ tone. It was pretty cute. “I can always rely on him to be there for me. But that doesn’t mean he stays.”   
  
Rodimus nodded slowly. “I see.” He finished off his energon and tossed the empty cube into the washbasin. “So, uh, now what?”   
  
Starscream rose to his feet. “Now you need a wash. You’ve been tracking grit all through my tower, and my drones are going to have fits when they see it.”   
  
“I’m not that dirty.” Rodimus snorted. “Besides, it’s kind of inevitable. You do realize we’re surrounded by desert, right?”   
  
“That’s no excuse. Come on.”   
  
Rodimus snorted again and slid out from the table. “It’s that how it’s going to be from now on? You order me around and expect me to obey?”   
  
Stascream tossed a smirk over his shoulder. “Is that going to be a problem?”   
  
“You know, you and Sunstreaker are either going to hate each other, or be the best of friends,” Rodimus said with a shake of his head. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s his philosophy, too.”   
  
It was Starscream’s turn to snort. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”   
  
“Least you’re gonna scrub my back, right?” Rodimus asked as he slipped past Starscream, turning back to give him a cheeky grin and waggle of his spoiler.   
  
“We’ll see.”   
  
The door opened, and a flood of drones came beeping and booping inside, swarming over the floor and bumping against Rodimus’ feet. Starscream stared as Rodimus giggled like a sparkling and crouched down, scooping one of the drones out of the flood.   
  
“Scuttle!” he said brightly, rubbing his cheek against the top panel of the drone as it beeped and trilled at him, lights flashing in a pattern that was almost hypnotic. “I missed you!”   
  
“That’s a cleaning drone, Rodimus,” Starscream said flatly.   
  
“So?” Rodimus arched an orbital ridge at him before he returned his attention to Scuttle, whose tires were spinning eagerly. “Scuttle was the first friend I made here. I like him.”   
  
Him.   
  
Starscream shook his head.   
  
“These other guys missed me, too, huh?” Rodimus said as he looked down at the drones milling around his feet, even poor Swift, who was so excited all he could do was spin in a dizzying circle.   
  
Rodimus crouched to set Scuttle back among its brethren, the noise of the flock almost deafening. Yet, all Rodimus did was laugh and try to pet every drone within reach.   
  
“Yeah, yeah. I’m back. Nice to see you all, too,” he said.   
  
Primus, even Stroll had dragged his aft up here. And Starscream hadn’t seen the oil springs drone since Stroll first emerged after Rodimus left. Not even Deadlock could coax the sulky one out of hiding. Saunter wasn’t here, but that wasn’t much of a surprise.   
  
“You’ve usurped my drones,” Starscream said.   
  
Rodimus looked up at him with a genuine smile and a sparkle in his optics. “They’re not just drones. You don’t have to pretend they are anymore, Starscream.”   
  
Until that moment, Starscream hadn’t known he could fall harder for the clanling. There was no inch of judgment in Rodimus’ gaze, and the affection he felt for Scuttle and the others was absolutely genuine.   
  
Starscream folded his arms over his cockpit. “They’re swarming you because you’re so filthy,” he said, to hide how fast his spark was beating.   
  
Rodimus chuckled. “All right. I can take a hint.” He planted his hands on his thighs as he pushed himself back to his feet. “I’ll take that shower.” He waded through the drones, waving his hands at them as he did. “C’mon, sparklings. Your boss is frowning at me.”   
  
The drones chittered and chirped, but obediently made a path for him. Most of them scattered out the door, perhaps going back to their duties. Scramble stayed behind, as he was supposed to, and Stroll followed at a leisurely pace. Scuttle, however, stayed glued to Rodimus’ heels.   
  
Unsurprisingly.   
  
“Rinse off before you soak,” Starscream reminded him.   
  
Rodimus swept his hand out and tilted forward in a deep bow. “Yes, your highness. Whatever you ask of me.”   
  
“Brat.”   
  
Rodimus winked and then he was gone, out the door.   
  
“I’ll join you in a minute,” Starscream called after him.   
  
“You’d better!” Rodimus’ voice floated back to him from the hallway before the noise of the drones gradually eased away.   
  
Starscream cycled a ventilation and distracted himself by tidying up the small mess they’d made. He needed a moment to get himself together. He felt himself being pulled into Rodimus’ pace, and there was far too much unspoken right now to just dive in blindly.   
  
Cleaning up was a perfect distraction.   
  
Storage room tidied, Starscream headed back to the ground floor. There, he spied the pile of things Rodimus had brought with him, sitting in a dusty lump by his front door. Spinner was bumping into it, beeping angrily, before it bounced off, spun, and attacked once more.   
  
Poor thing. The second-made, just after Swift, had only slightly better coding, though the key word was slightly. Spinner liked to hide, not because it was lazy like Stroll, but because it preferred dark, shadowy places. But the untouched mess at the front door, left behind by the gaggle of drones who flocked to Rodimus, must have bothered Spinner enough to emerge.   
  
“Calm down, Spin. I’ll get it,” Starscream sighed as he stooped to scoop up Rodimus’ belongings. They consisted mainly of two packs, both of which were heavy, and one of them clanked noisily. Starscream stopped himself from nosing around inside of them, but only just.   
  
Spinner chirped happily and dove forward, sucking up the debris left behind in their absence. No doubt it would clean up the mess and then zip back to its hiding spot, where it would huddle until night-time. Spinner preferred to patrol when the tower was dim and silent. It also liked Deadlock when he took to meditating.   
  
Starscream climbed the ramp to several levels up, and the spare room that had been Rodimus’ several weeks ago. He hadn’t changed anything since Rodimus left. So he dumped Rodimus’ bags on the berth. The Firebrand could sort through them later if he wanted. Scuttle would probably clean up whatever mess they shed, too.   
  
Starscream turned and looked behind him. There was a light trail of rust dust and grit in his wake.   
  
Oh, well. He had an army of cleaning drones. Surely one of them would get to it soon enough.   
  
He left the room, the door sliding shut behind him, his spark continuing to do that happy little spin and throb it had started from the moment he saw Rodimus. It was ridiculous. It was unfair. It was--  
  
“You never haul my stuff for me.”   
  
Starscream paused and looked up. Deadlock was on the level above him, where a decently sized open space was considered ‘his.’ Deadlock wasn’t one for walls much, and didn’t like the confines of a room.   
  
Currently, Deadlock leaned against the rail over the overhang, much like a balcony, and looked down at Starscream, his expression unreadable. He had one arm folded, the other elbow propped on the rail, supporting his chin.   
  
“That’s because you have impeccable manners. Sometimes.” Starscream lifted an orbital ridge. “I take it you were eavesdropping?”   
  
Deadlock smirked and launched himself over the railing, landing on the floor in front of Starscream with far less noise than he should have made. “Do you believe him?”   
  
Starscream tilted his head. “Do you think that’s a mistake?”   
  
Deadlock rolled his shoulders and moved closer, the edges of his field winding with Starscream’s own. Comfortable. Reassuring. A promise.   
  
Rodimus had only to twitch wrong, and Deadlock would make him pay.   
  
“If it is, it’s your mistake to make,” Deadlock said.   
  
Not helpful.   
  
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Starscream muttered. His functioning seemed to be a collection of mistakes.   
  
Deadlock cupped his face and pressed their foreheads together. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s sincere.”   
  
Starscream gripped Deadlock’s arms and offlined his optics, drawing on the familiar and comforting field of his closest friend. A mech he loved, perhaps in not the romantic sense, that of a conjunx. But loved all the same.   
  
He was terrified. He hoped it didn’t show.   
  
Deadlock pulled back, looking Starscream directly in the optics. “But if he isn’t, and this is all some ploy to use you, I won’t hesitate to rip out his cog and make him eat it.”   
  
Starscream laughed. “What imagery.”   
  
“Seen it before. Not pretty. Excruciating, from what I hear.”   
  
“I’ll take your word for it.”   
  
Deadlock rose up, pressed a kiss to Starscream’s forehead, and let him go. “I’ll be here if you need me. But right now, you’ve got a cute little Firebrand soaping himself up downstairs, and if you don’t take advantage of that, I might have to beat you to the punch.”   
  
“Hedonist.”   
  
Deadlock shrugged and smirked, fangs flashing in the overhead light. “He’s got a nice aft. Let me know if he’s up for a threesome, yeah?”   
  
Starscream barked a laugh. “I’ll try and remember to bring it up. But don’t hold your vents. His past isn’t as checkered as ours.”   
  
“Yeah, but a bot can dream.” Deadlock flicked his hands. “Go. Shoo. Or I’ll beat you to it.”   
  
Starscream held up his hands. “I’m going.” He moved to the edge, looking down the central column for a speedier descent again. “And Deadlock? Thanks.”   
  
“Don’t mention it.”   
  
Starscream leapt, calculated bursts of his thrusters slowing his descent until he landed on the ground floor. Because Deadlock was right. He did have a cute Firebrand in his oil bath, and maybe nothing would come out of it, maybe something would.   
  
Maybe it would only end in sparkbreak. Maybe it would be another loss to add to the tally. Maybe he’d find himself alone and abandoned all over again.   
  
Or maybe there was something here to break the pattern.   
  
The only way to find out was to take a vent and leap. To try one more time. To have a little faith even.   
  
He trusted in Deadlock’s judgment.   
  
All he had to do was leap.   
  


****


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another NSFW chapter!

Rodimus took his time rinsing off, his thoughts darting between wild ponderings and an unexpected calm. He felt nervous and excited, expectant and wary. Not even Scuttle, beeping as he slid from solvent-slick to solvent-slick, could chase away the anxiety, amusing as the drone’s behavior was.   
  
He was here. He’d left the settlement and everyone he knew behind. He came here. Back to Starscream.   
  
Rodimus still wasn’t sure why.   
  
But the rapid flare of his spark, the flush of heat that struck his frame, the way he just wanted to fall into Starscream’s arms and babble to him, or even fall into a berth and stay there for days… he thought maybe some of the answers were in there.   
  
He couldn’t blame Starscream for being cautious. He hoped he could prove himself, though. He wanted to stay here. To be with Starscream. He just wanted a chance.   
  
Rodimus sluiced away all of the rust and grit his long walk had acquired. He rinsed off his tarp and hung it to dry as well, and waited until the solvent ran clear before he turned off the spray. The oil bath called, and Rodimus was more than ready to sink into it.   
  
Damn, but he’d missed this luxury.   
  
He hoped Starscream let him stay.   
  
He’d have to go back to the settlement eventually. Sunstreaker would hunt him down if Rodimus didn’t at least come back now and again, prove that he was all right and not rusting away in some ditch or that he hadn’t become food for a pack of turbowolves. Sunstreaker worried.  
  
It was nice that someone worried. Even if their last conversation had been… well, it had hurt, but it had also been freeing. Like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Rodimus had no regrets now. He’d said what he’d needed to say, and despite leaving some things behind, felt as though he’d left richer than before.  
  
Leaving had revealed a lot to Rodimus. He’d had more ties than he’d realized. From Springer’s unexpected support to Kup wishing him luck and telling him to come back now and again to freshen up his training.   
  
Even Wrench had snagged Rodimus on his way out of the celebration to press a wrapped box into his hands. He’d said to give it to the mech who’d saved Rodimus’ life, and added a wink, leaving little guess that he’d known it was Starscream all along.   
  
Rodimus supposed he’d have to dig out that box from his pack later. He’d peeked into it, because his curiosity couldn’t be denied, but all that was in it was a bunch of medical supplies. Boring. But nice of him.   
  
Leaving like that, with so many people wishing him well, filled Rodimus with warmth. He thought, again, that Sideswipe was right.   
  
He would always have a home in the settlement. Even if he couldn’t stay with Starscream, he could always go back. He didn’t know what he’d do then, but not being a warrior? It was hardly the worst thing that could happen to him.   
  
Maybe he could find a way to the other clans. He could venture out to Skyfire’s if he wanted. Surely Elita’s clan would offer him passage if he asked politely and he was by himself. If he went about it properly, she might not rip off his head. There were others, too. Some good, some bad.   
  
Adventure was out there. Opportunity, too. He didn’t have to stay in his own clan, his own settlement. He could find his future elsewhere.   
  
Only, he hoped he didn’t have to. He hoped Starscream wanted him to stay.  
  
The sound of footsteps echoed in the small hall that led down to the oilsprings, disturbing Rodimus from his musings.   
  
Rodimus straightened from where he’d sunk down into the warmth, anticipation coiling inside of him into a hot mass. He remembered, all over again, when he had been plugged into Starscream and the boiling surge of data.  
  
Primus.   
  
Starscream stepped into view, his lips pulled into a soft smile, his gaze searching the room before landing on Rodimus shoulder-deep in the oil. “Well, you didn’t waste any time at all.”   
  
Rodimus grinned, interpreting the tone to be playful rather than chastising. “I’m only obeying orders.”   
  
Starscream snorted. “Right. And did you miss me or my private oil bath?” Scuttle spun over to meet Starscream, bumping briefly against his foot before huddling back behind Rodimus again.   
  
“Why not both?” Rodimus asked as he trailed his fingers over Scuttle’s chassis, a trilling rise of noise rising in the wake of his touch. It wasn’t unlike a voltaic cat’s purr actually.   
  
Wings flicked, but again, more amusement than annoyance. Or at least Rodimus hoped. Starscream moved to join him in the oil bath, easing himself down into the heated liquid. He had a lazy grace, Rodimus noticed, with a small frisson of heat winding through his circuits.   
  
He was gorgeous, beautiful in a manner different than Sunstreaker but no less equal. Rodimus wanted so much to touch him this time. To trace his seams, discover how different he tasted, the sounds he made in pleasure. He wanted to flick those little fans on Starscream’s chest, and see if his wings were as sensitive as rumor claimed.   
  
He wanted so much.   
  
“I see where my true value lies then,” Starscream remarked as he briefly dipped down into the oil, only to rise again, cockpit shimmering where oil sluiced down it. His cockpit shimmered in the oil’s wake, calling for touch.   
  
Private and small. Rodimus could reach out and brush his fingers over Starscream if he wanted. He held himself back. Things were, as yet, awkward.   
  
“How… uh, how’s your coding, by the way?” Rodimus asked for desperate need of a distraction. He leaned back, resisting the urge to purr as the hot oil seeped into every seam and joint, caressing his aching cables.   
  
Starscream tilted his head. “Between you and Deadlock, I’m at full capacity,” he said and gestured to Rodimus. “You mentioned your back?”   
  
Oh. Right.   
  
Rodimus leveraged himself upright and obediently turned, his field prickling as Starscream moved close to him, their fields coming into contact. Starscream was only a few inches taller than him, but it suddenly felt like more. Standing, the oil bath lapped at his hips, and the feel of it trickling down his armor was unexpectedly erotic.   
  
“Deadlock, huh?” He tried to keep his tone light. He was suffocatingly jealous, and he had absolutely no right to be. But the twins had been stolen before he could be brave enough to confess, and he now worried he’d lost his chance with Starscream, too.   
  
Deadlock was handsome. Charming in some way obviously. He was far more skilled than Rodimus could ever hope to be. And he and Starscream had a history. What did Rodimus have to offer compared to that?  
  
“Is that jealousy I detect?” Starscream asked as he started to wipe along Rodimus’ back and spoiler. An oil soak was good and all, but to get the full benefits, it was better to gently massage it in.   
  
Damn, it felt good. Starscream’s touch was deft and gentle, and it left Rodimus’ dermal net tingling in the aftermath. He shivered, and hoped it didn’t show.   
  
“I guess I don’t have a right to be,” Rodimus said, carefully choosing his words. After all, he didn’t have any sort of claim on Starscream, did he?  
  
“No. But that doesn’t mean I’m not flattered.” Starscream’s tone, at least, was warm. As was the sweep of the cloth over the back of Rodimus’ spoiler. “Yes, we’ve shared a berth. Yes, I’ve copied his coding. But that’s as far as it goes.”   
  
Rodimus nodded, though Starscream couldn’t see it, and decided to go for broke. After all, why else was he here? “What am I then?”   
  
“An experiment.”   
  
A laugh burst out of Rodimus before he could stop it, Starscream’s tone so flat it had to be a joke. “No. Seriously.”   
  
“I don’t know.” Starscream’s hands paused, resting on his shoulders. “Do you need a definition?”   
  
“Sometimes they help.”   
  
“And sometimes they are just a tiny box that you don’t fit into.” Starscream’s hands slid down to Rodimus’ waist before subtle urging had Rodimus turning to face him. “What do you plan to do here, Rodimus?”   
  
He blinked. That seemed like such an odd question. One with an obvious answer.   
  
“What?”   
  
Starscream arched an orbital ridge at him, though nothing in his field felt accusing, just curious. “You wanted to be a warrior. Do you have other skills? What do you plan to do here? You can’t build an entire future around romancing someone, after all.”   
  
Oh.   
  
Rodimus shrugged, trying not to focus so hard on Starscream’s hands on his hips, and where else they might wander. “I’ll figure something out. I can still hunt. Make things. Help you, maybe. I mean, I don’t know any science stuff, but that doesn’t mean you can’t use a second pair of hands.”   
  
He was babbling again. Sounding like an idiot. He always did this when he didn’t know what else to do. Frag, he hated it.   
  
Starscream’s hands remained gentle where they rested on his hips, but his tone turned more probing. “And you’ll be satisfied with that?”   
  
“I don’t know. Maybe,” Rodimus hedged, and fidgeted, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chassis. He knew he looked defensive when he did that.   
  
Starscream sighed, and Rodimus knew he’d fragged up. Especially when the Seeker let him go and backed away, putting a noticeable distance between them. Rodimus could still reach out and touch Starscream, but now he didn’t dare.   
  
“I can’t be comfortable with a maybe,” Starscream said, and he was the one to cross his arms as he leaned back against the wall of the spring. “How do I know you won’t wake up tomorrow, realize how bored you are, and vanish?”   
  
Rodimus chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second. “You don’t,” he admitted, and scrubbed the back of his head. “But then, I don’t know that you’re not gonna wake up in a week and realize how annoying I am and kick me out.” He shrugged and hoped it came across more confident than he felt. “That’s a risk we’re both taking, I guess.”   
  
Risk indeed. Rodimus felt an awful lot like he was standing on the edge of something, and a single push would send him tottering over. There was freedom in the freefall, he knew, but then the ground would come awfully quick.   
  
He didn’t want to go splat.   
  
“What about your clan?”   
  
Rodimus’ forehead drew down. “What about them?”   
  
“You’re fine with just leaving them?”   
  
He frowned and tried not to squirm. He, too, backed away, until there was as much distance between them as was possible in the springs. “Well, I mean, it doesn’t have to be permanent, does it? I can go back and visit whenever I want. And maybe someday, you’ll want to come back with me.”   
  
Starscream visibly stiffened. His optics narrowed into little slits. “I’m not a trophy.”   
  
Rodimus shook his head. “I didn’t say you were. Honestly! If you don’t want to go, you never have to. I just...” He ducked his head, aware that his face was filling with heat.   
  
He felt stupid, now that he thought about it, that quiet fantasy he’d built while at the festival, watching the mated and unmated alike as they spun and twirled around the bonfire. The hazy dream where Rodimus walked hand in hand with a mate of his own choosing, dancing the courtship, the firelight reflecting over the polished surface of his mate’s armor.   
  
He used to imagine himself between Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, flirting and grinning, overwhelmed by their fields and smiles and the seduction of their hands. Now he wondered what it would be like to see Starscream glittering in the moonlight, wings high and fluttering, a coy smile on his lips.   
  
A romantic idiot, was what he was.   
  
“You just what?” Starscream demanded.   
  
Rodimus sighed and scrubbed the back of his neck. “I thought it would be fun,” he mumbled. “To dance with you. At the festival.”   
  
“Festival?” Starscream echoed.   
  
He couldn’t bring himself to lift his optics. “Mating season,” he clarified. “The courtship dance.” He sighed again. “A lot of clans out here do the snatch and grab, I know, but we don’t. For us it’s more of a game? Except you already know the players. You don’t take the unwilling, and it’s more of a courting dance than anything.”   
  
He felt the weight of Starscream’s gaze on the top of his helm. Starscream’s field lingered in the periphery of his own, but Rodimus didn’t dare reach for it.   
  
“You wish to claim me in front of your clan,” Starscream said.   
  
Rodimus winced. “I know. It’s stupid.”   
  
“I didn’t say that.” Starscream’s tone softened, and warmed even.   
  
The oil swished as he moved closer, and only then did Rodimus risk lifting his head. He wasn’t sure what to call the expression on Starscream’s face, but it didn’t hold anger or irritation, so he considered that a plus.   
  
“It’s kind of flattering really,” Starscream said, and something dark flashed in his optics. “There are few things on this planet worth less than the spark of a Seeker. And yet, you’d want to court me in front of your entire clan.”   
  
Rodimus nodded. He mastered his ventilations, unsure if he dared to hope, and unwilling to shatter whatever this was.   
  
“Why?” Starscream asked.   
  
Rodimus worked his intake. “Because you’re…. you,” he said, and decided, what the frag, what did he have to lose? “You’re gorgeous. You’re so smart that it makes my head spin. You’re strong in ways I didn’t know mechs could be strong. You’re everything I didn’t know I wanted until I found it in you and...”   
  
His spark throbbed harder. There were a lot of words inside of him, and they bubbled out, more incoherent than he wanted, but it was the best he could do.   
  
He gnawed on his bottom lip and looked up at Starscream. “I don’t know what I can do now, but I know whatever it is, I want to do it with you.” He drew in another shuddering ventilation and held Starscream’s gaze. “I want this, you and me and whatever we can have, I want it to be my future now. I want you to be my adventure. And… and I really don’t know what else to say.”   
  
Which seemed like such a stupid addition considering how much he’d babbled.   
  
Starscream stared at him for a moment before he cycled a ventilation, one that sounded shaky. “I think it was perfect,” he murmured and cupped Rodimus’ face once more, drawing them together, leaning his forehead against Rodimus’. “I would like that as well. To see what we can have. To give ‘us’ a try.”   
  
Us.   
  
Rodimus liked the sound of that.   
  
He reached for Starscream’s hips, tentative and careful, but when he wasn’t rebuffed, he rested his hands there. The heat of the oil seemed to swallow him whole, but it was a distant second to the sensation of Starscream’s field against his, and the cup of Starscream’s hands.   
  
“I don’t have to leave?” Rodimus asked, a question he’d presented before, but lingering uncertainty made him doubtful.   
  
“No,” Starscream murmured, and he kissed Rodimus, his mouth covering Rodimus’, his glossa slipping inside with a gentle caress.   
  
Rodimus sighed into the kiss, melting against Starscream, pulling them together, their frames coming into sizzling, electric contact. He felt a shiver run through his frame, even as the kiss deepened, and Starscream’s field throbbed against his as if expecting.   
  
A thrill ran through Rodimus’ spark. He made a sound into the kiss, maybe a whimper, maybe a moan. He felt weak in the knees and clutched harder at Starscream, the kiss almost desperate, his mouth moving against Starscream’s, until it vanished.   
  
Rodimus made a noise of protest, but Starscream’s lips didn’t go far. They trailed a tingling path up, pressed lightly to the tip of his nasal structure before they wandered over his cheek ridge.   
  
Another shudder rippled over Rodimus’ armor. The heat of the oil swished around his legs, and he panted for cooler air, only to find none. He moaned softly, tugging Starscream more firmly against him, their chassis in delicious contact. He swore he could feel the whirl of Starscream’s spark through the transsteel of his cockpit.   
  
Starscream’s hands released him and slid down, palming his chestplate before sliding further down, cupping the two halves of his bumper grill, thin fingers slipping into the slats and teasing the delicate constructions beneath. Rodimus moaned, his chassis arching toward Starscream, lust hitting him like a bolt to the spinal strut.   
  
His head tipped back and Starscream seemed to take that as an offer, because lips and denta immediately descended, nibbling on his intake cables. Every brush of Starscream’s denta sent another thrill through him, until Rodimus shook with need, heat coiling lower and lower, winding like a spring inside of him.   
  
It was dizzying.   
  
He hadn’t even realized that Starscream was backing him up toward the edge until his aft bumped the unpolished wall beneath the surface. He was pinned quite thoroughly by an amorous Seeker and dizzily, Rodimus couldn’t imagine anywhere else he’d rather be.   
  
Except, maybe, a berth.   
  
Because frag it, he’d made enough mistakes already. He didn’t want to do this with Starscream for the first time for real in an oil bath.   
  
Starscream bit at his intake again, and soothed it with his glossa, and Rodimus’ vision wobbled. For a moment, he was distracted, arousal pooling hot and heavy in his array, his spike throbbing behind his panel and another crackle of need racing through his lines.   
  
Rodimus moaned and grasped for coherency. “W-wait.”   
  
Starscream pulled back almost immediately, the smallest of frowns at the corner of his lips. “Something wrong?”   
  
Rodimus’ ventilations hitched and he had to remind himself not to lean in and steal Starscream’s lips. He was trying to say something.   
  
“No,” he said, and felt the heat in his cheeks again. Would he ever stop feeling like an idiot? “I just… could we move this to a berth? I mean, if you want to do what I think you want to do and I want do to it, too. I do. Just not here?”   
  
Primus, he sounded like a moron.   
  
Starscream stared at him for a moment before he cycled his optics, and his hands stroked over Rodimus’ chestplate. “I’d forgotten how much of a romantic you are,” he murmured, before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Rodimus’ mouth.   
  
Rodimus flushed. “Sorry.”   
  
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” Starscream sounded amused. He leaned back, stroking around the curve of Rodimus’ face. “Well then. Let’s towel off and head upstairs, shall we? So we can do what you think we want to do, but in the comfort of a berth.” His tone, mercifully, was teasing rather than mocking.   
  
It took more effort than Rodimus expected to peel himself away from Starscream and climb out of the oil springs. Chill swept over him immediately, without the heat of the oil and the heat of Starscream’s frame. Though his engine purred hungrily and arousal throbbed heavily through his sensornet.   
  
Starscream followed him out.   
  
“Could we, um, do it again?” Rodimus asked as he quickly swiped a towel over his frame to get off the excess oil that had yet to drip from his frame, into the grate beneath him. He suspected Starscream collected it and reused it.   
  
Starscream tilted his head. “You’ll have to be more specific,” he drawled, optics glittering with humor. “There are many things we’ve done.”   
  
Rodimus worked his intake and dropped his gaze, focusing intently on the oil gathered in the seams of his feet. “You know. With the cables.”   
  
“Codesharing?”   
  
Rodimus nodded and diligently wiped at his calves, only to suddenly feel a towel on his back and across his spoiler. Not unlike Sunstreaker, as a matter of fact. Apparently, he wasn’t very good at drying himself off.   
  
“Why?” Starscream asked as several efficient strokes finished Rodimus up and the towel was tossed aside.   
  
“Because I want to,” Rodimus admitted and tossed his own towel into the pile, turning to face Starscream again. “I liked it, and I guess, I want you to know that it doesn’t bother me.”   
  
Okay, yes. He’d been terrified at first. Who wouldn’t be, if they’d spent most of their functioning being told that Seekers were dangerous code-stealers who wanted to hack you and reprogram you and turn you into a slave.   
  
But now? He couldn’t forget that ecstasy, and he wanted to show Starscream how much he trusted the Seeker.   
  
Starscream arched an orbital ridge. “My coding is currently at one-hundred percent stability, Rodimus. It doesn’t need a refresh. Another codeshare would be pointless.”   
  
“Because of Deadlock?” he asked, or blurted rather, before politeness told him it was a bad idea. Not his place, remember?   
  
Starscream tugged him in close, his hands sliding around Rodimus’ waist, and Rodimus couldn’t resist touching the shiny gleam of his chestplate. Those turbines looked in need of exploration.   
  
“Is that why you asked?”   
  
Rodimus’ gaze slid away. “Maybe.” He’d already lost one love to the charms of another mech. It was something of a fear for him now.   
  
Starscream rolled his optics and slid his hands up Rodimus’ back, tweaking his spoiler mounts. It sent a little thrill of need up Rodimus’ spinal strut.   
  
“No amount of codesharing between us will delete Deadlock from my coding, Rodimus,” Starscream said, a touch of amusement in his tone. “I’ve been living off his code for too long. It’s embedded. Stick around long enough, and you’ll be a part of me, too.”   
  
Rodimus blinked. “What?” Though it did sound kind of romantic in retrospect.   
  
“It’s a long and probably boring explanation,” Starscream replied with a sigh. He pressed their foreheads together. “And I, for one, would rather find that berth you mentioned. Hm?”   
  
Rodimus licked his lips and slid his hands up Starscream’s chassis, palms briefly skittering over the turbine housing. “Sounds good. But that still doesn’t answer my question.”   
  
“If you want to plug in, that’s fine. There are other things than code sharing. Things that can be mutually beneficial.” Starscream smirked at him. “I’ll show you.”   
  
Rodimus shivered. “Okay.” He tilted into Starscream’s touch, his processor spinning again, as heat swamped his frame.   
  
It was too easy to lean into Starscream and kiss him again, to melt into the touch of lips against his, and the soft sweeping of Starscream’s hands.   
  
The kiss ended, and Rodimus chased it, half in a daze, half dizzy with anticipation. Starscream tugged him backward, toward the door. Rodimus followed, his circuits singing and his spark skipping a dancing whirl.   
  
They made it to the lift before Rodimus had to kiss him again, pressing Starscream against the side of it, his hands sliding up to caress the long edges of a wing. Starscream shivered and made a hungry noise, his hands cupping Rodimus’ aft, dragging their frames together. The lift donged noisily at them, obstinately, reporting their arrival and demanding they exit.   
  
Apparently all of the non-sentient machinery in Starscream’s tower had attitude. Which suited, come to think of their owner.   
  
Rodimus almost snorted a laugh.   
  
“What’s so funny?” Starscream asked, his mouth devouring Rodimus’ intake.   
  
“Tell you later,” Rodimus said with a shiver, his hands finding those fascinating turbines and giving them a flick with his thumb. “You said something about a berth?”   
  
The lift donged at them again and gave a little shudder. Rodimus barely bit back his chuckle and instead nudged Starscream toward the door. They stumbled out, hands wandering, heat rising between them.   
  
Rodimus expected to go to the room that had once been his. But his current surroundings dictated otherwise. It wasn’t until they approached a door that had always been closed to him, and Starscream blindly pawed the panel, that he realized Starscream had taken them to his own room.   
  
It was much larger than the one Rodimus knew, with a huge uncovered window looking out on the side of the tower overhanging a tall cliff. The desert stretched out for miles in all directions. To a grounder, to Rodimus, it was dizzying. It figured Starscream would enjoy such a view.   
  
The rest of the walls were lines with shelves, all of them cluttered with all manner of things. Rodimus only got a glimpse of them before Starscream lurched against him, claws scraping Rodimus’ point as he nearly bit Rodimus’ lower lip. He muttered a curse and performed an odd jig, even as he looked down, wings high and tight.   
  
“Scuttle!” Starscream hissed, his tone a touch mortified. “He’s mine first!”   
  
Rodimus slipped out of his lusty haze a tad. Sure enough, Scuttle was beneath them, beeping and whirling away, in and around their feet. A laugh slipped out of Rodimus’ intake as Starscream bent down and physically shooed Scuttle toward the door.   
  
“Out the door, you menace!” Starscream grumbled, herding Scuttle back into the hallway. “We don’t need a voyeur!”   
  
Scuttle honked obnoxiously and tried to whirl around, making a beeline to come back inside. But Starscream hastily backtracked and slammed a palm on the door. There was a light thunk from the other side.   
  
The laugh escaped. Rodimus grinned from audial to audial as Starscream stomped back toward him, but not before directing a sharp glare toward the door.   
  
“Brat doesn’t listen at all anymore, and it’s your fault,” he said.   
  
Rodimus shook his head, grabbing for Starscream’s hands and pulling the Seeker toward him. “You’re adorable,” he murmured as static crackled where their plating touched. “And Scuttle will get over it.”   
  
“He’ll learn to, if I have anything to say about it,” Starscream retorted, and leaned in, his lips ghosting over the curve of Rodimus’ jaw. “Now where were we…?”   
  
Rodimus shivered, arching toward Starscream, the heavy throb in his belly making his legs wobble. “Right about here, I think.”   
  
He captured Starscream’s lips with his, moaning as the kiss immediately deepened. Starscream’s mouth was hot against his, and the Seeker’s field crackled with need. Starscream leaned against him, urging him backward, and Rodimus’ world spun with dizzying lust, until the back of his knees struck something.   
  
The berth, he suspected. They tumbled onto it, a berth more than big enough for two, and so comfortable it felt like it swallowed him.   
  
Starscream pressed him down into it, and Rodimus moaned as a knee slipped between his, nudging against his array, the pressure against his concealed equipment forcing out another moan. He clutched at Starscream, capturing the Seeker’s mouth with his, heat throbbing through his array. He found those turbines again, and played with the narrow slats. Above him, Starscream moaned and visibly shivered.   
  
His mouth tore away from Rodimus’, diving in at his intake again, denta grazing and leaving little nips that felt like claims. Rodimus’ thigh clamped down on Starscream’s leg and he rolled his hips, grinding his array against Starscream’s knee. He smelled lubricant and knew it had to be leaking from his seams.   
  
Wait.   
  
Rodimus tried to find coherence in the dizzying need throbbing through his circuits. As much as his valve clenched and his spike thickened, he seemed to remember there was something else…   
  
Something.  
  
“Wait,” he said as he squirmed beneath Starscream, vents whirring and the comfortable berth neatly distracting him again. “You promised me cables.”   
  
Starscream chuckled against his intake, and the pleasurable onslaught eased, giving Rodimus a moment to catch his vents. “I did, didn’t I?” he purred as he pushed himself up on his forearms to look down on Rodimus.   
  
Who felt an awful lot like prey at the moment. There was something hungry in Starscream’s gaze, and it made Rodimus shiver all over again.   
  
“You did,” Rodimus confirmed.   
  
“Then I suppose I’d better keep my promise.” Starscream leaned down and nuzzled Rodimus briefly before he sat back on his heels, his optics raking over Rodimus’ frame in a gesture that was nothing short of appreciative.   
  
Rodimus felt his face flush with heat. He squirmed a little under the scrutiny.   
  
“I seem to remember your port array being here,” Starscream said as he dragged his fingertips across Rodimus’ abdominal armor to the leftmost panel, barely visible in all the complicated seams of his frame.   
  
Rodimus shivered, his hands fisting the plush surface of the berth. “You remember right,” he said.   
  
“Open for me?”   
  
It was embarrassing the speed at which Rodimus triggered his panel to open, baring his still fairly new connectors to the open air. He gnawed on his bottom lip as Starscream’s fingers traced the ports and teased the cable ends where they were still docked. Primus, even that felt good.   
  
Rodimus’ back arched, a tremble starting at the base of his strut. Charge licked out from his substructure. “You-- You said you were going to show me something different.”   
  
“And I am.” Starscream pinched the tip of his cable gently and a jolt of need raced through Rodimus’ array. “Codesharing requires a one-way connection. Data-facing relies on one that is two-way.”   
  
“D-Data-facing?” Rodimus echoed, a bit shakily, as Starscream fondled the tip of his cable a bit harder.   
  
“Mm hm.” Starscream hummed and gave a little tug, urging Rodimus’ cable to unspool from his array.   
  
Why did that feel good? Rodimus had no idea. But it felt like Starscream was stroking his spike, and all Starscream did was pull his cable free, until it was long enough to cross the distance between them.   
  
Starscream smirked as he leaned over and ex-vented across the pronged tip, the wet heat of his vents making Rodimus moan. His head tossed back, hips squirming beneath Starscream.   
  
“It’s fallen a bit out of practice.” Starscream extended his glossa, lapping at the end of Rodimus’ data cable and making his entire frame jerk with need. “Too intimate for most. Spike and valve are better for casual encounters.”   
  
Rodimus groaned and shifted, slipping his legs around Starscream’s waist to tug the Seeker closer. “Less lecturing, more ‘facing,” he said as charge crackled around his port.   
  
Starscream chuckled. “As you wish.” He kept Rodimus’ connector cable in hand and reached behind himself, for his own awkwardly placed panel.   
  
Rodimus would have offered to help, but given the way his hands were shaking, he doubted he’d be much use. Besides, Starscream was far more practiced at this than he. Even so, he fumbled a bit, and Rodimus groaned as his connector made contact with Starscream’s port, static crackling between the two, only for it to skitter away.   
  
What a torturous tease.   
  
Until his connector finally clicked into place with a little jolt of charge, and Rodimus moaned, head tossing back, his engine revving. Heat surged into the link like a lightning strike, before it ebbed to a slow burn. It felt nothing like when Starscream had connected to him, but it carried a pleasure of its own. He felt Starscream’s port twitch and crackle around his connector, before it seemed to pulse and nestle him tightly, snug in all the right places.   
  
And then Starscream was spooling his own cable into view, and Rodimus licked his lips.   
  
“You sure know how to drag out the moment,” he said as he watched the tip of Starscream’s connector get closer and closer, his own port aching with need.   
  
“That’s because you’re cute when you’re flustered,” Starscream purred as the tip of his connector nudged against Rodimus’ port, charge flashing between the two units.   
  
Rodimus arched and moaned. Lights danced in his optical feed, his vents surging out in eager pants, his entire frame shaking with desire. His array throbbed, valve cycling hungrily, spike swelling and swelling, demanding to be set free.   
  
“Star, please!” he pleaded, heat filling his face and his frame.   
  
Starscream leaned over him, their face inches apart, his ex-vents ghosting over Rodimus’ lips. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmured before his connector sank home.   
  
Rodimus keened, and his hands scrabbled at Starscream’s chestplate, fingers hooking in seams as he kept the Seeker close. Electric fire spread outward from the hot and heavy pulse of charge where they were connected. It licked through his sensornet, through his lines, and he whimpered when a scorching pulse of charge shot down the line from Starscream and into his array.   
  
Above him, Starscream panted a moan, his forehead pressing to Rodimus’. “Oh, my,” he breathed, his field surging wildly, ripe with lust. “You are aptly named, ‘Hot Rod’. Your charge is like fire.”   
  
He whimpered and lost control, his spike springing free between them, the head of it scraping against Starscream’s belly armor. It left a streak of transfluid behind and just the bare touch felt so good. Rodimus writhed, pleasure eclipsing all else.   
  
He hadn’t known it could feel like this.   
  
Starscream’s free hand rested on Rodimus’ belly, palm sliding upward and upward, tickling over his chestplate, over his seams.   
  
“I’ll teach you,” Starscream murmured as another heavy, crackling pulse of charge surged into Rodimus’ port, and he felt the tug of Starscream’s cable on him. “How to feed your charge into me. How to draw my charge into you.”   
  
Rodimus moaned, Starscream’s words like an arousing promise, pulsing into his audials. His fingers tightened on Starscream’s chassis, his frame rocking and rolling against Starscream’s in a mimicry of interfacing, his spike grinding against Starscream’s belly.   
  
No, not just his belly. The hot length of Starscream’s spike suddenly brushed against his, their spikes rubbing and teasing one another.   
  
More pleasure surged through Rodimus. He writhed, a moan escaping him.   
  
“Primus, you’re hot,” Starscream breathed and his mouth closed over Rodimus’ again, his lips and denta and glossa demanding.   
  
Rodimus felt completely and utterly claimed. Forget about the courtship dance. This was what it felt like to surrender.   
  
His thighs clamped around Starscream’s hips. His processor spun dizzily, overcharged on the hot pulses coming across their link, the dragging pull of Starscream’s systems on his, the feel of Starscream’s spike sliding hot and wet against his, the mass and heat of Starscream over him. The taste of Starscream on his lips, the tingling press of Starscream’s field surrounding him.   
  
He had no defense against it.   
  
Rodimus moaned into the kiss, processor whirling, spark throbbing faster and faster, barely out of sync with the pulses of charge, both sent and received. He rocked and ground up against Starscream, their frames moving and sliding together, spikes rubbing and sending jolts through Rodimus’ array.   
  
Heat spun inside of him, faster and faster, like the growing charge before firing an ion blaster.   
  
Rodimus heard himself whimper and couldn’t be embarrassed, not with his vents roaring and his fans spinning so hard they whined. A hard pulse of charge roared into his port array, making it crackle and hiss with electric fire. It radiated outward, spreading through his entire frame, throbbing into his spike.   
  
Rodimus moaned, backstrut arched, as overload boiled over him, his thighs clamping tight, his spike spurting transfluid between their frames, his mouth tearing away from Starscream’s as he threw his head back and keened. His frame thrashed, hips rolling, as wave after wave of pleasure seared his sensornet and whited his processor out to nothing but the ecstasy.   
  
He dimly heard Starscream moan seconds before the felt the flashfire of a tide of charge racing across the link, flavored with ecstasy. Rodimus jerked and soared into a second overload as Starscream must have overlaoded as well, the splatter of his transfluid raining down on Rodimus’ belly.   
  
He panted for ventilations, sagging into the berth, feeling wrung dry and twitching. Charge still lazily pulsed through his port array, like the soothing stroke of a magnetic cable massage. Rodimus’ processor spun and it took all he had to online his optics, wondering when he’d shuttered them.   
  
He gasped, desperate for cooler air, his fans spinning mightily. He still clung to Starscream, and Starscream to him, the cables swinging between them. Starscream shook, the little clatters of his armor barely audible over their spinning fans.   
  
Rodimus groaned. Little zaps of charge ran up and down his frame. His spark hummed happily. He felt he could recharge for days.   
  
“Primus,” he murmured, gentling his claw-like grip on Starscream’s chestplate into a lazy slide around Starscream’s chassis.   
  
“It can be intense,” Starscream replied, his vocals striped with static. He sagged, forehead resting on Rodimus’ shoulder. “I had forgotten how much so.”   
  
The datastream slowed to a trickle. It was kind of comforting actually. Rodimus made a low sound in his intake, tilting his head to rub his chin over Starscream’s head.   
  
“So this is normal?”   
  
“Quite.” Starscream shifted a little, until he was only half lying on Rodimus. His spike had retracted at some point, so Rodimus followed suit.   
  
There was a tacky mess on his frame. He should probably clean that up. But cleaning required moving, required effort, and Rodimus didn’t have any to spare. His engine purred as he pulled Starscream closer. It’d been a while since he got to snuggle with a warm frame, and he’d missed that quiet intimacy.   
  
“Are you going to sleep, Firebrand?” Starscream’s vocals were amused, but distant. Or maybe that’s because Rodimus’ optics had shuttered and the tug of recharge was getting stronger.   
  
“Yep.”   
  
Starscream hummed a laugh. “Amateur.” His hand slid up Rodimus’ abdomen, and fingers teased at his port array, where they remained joined.   
  
“You can leave ‘em,” Rodimus murmured as his vents started to even out. “Feels good.”   
  
There was a beat of startled silence.   
  
“You will never cease to surprise me,” Starscream said, almost too quietly for Rodimus to hear. But he did shift, enough to brush his lips over Rodimus’. “Recharge well.”   
  
Rodimus mumbled something in reply, but the grasp of recharge pulled him under, and he sank into it wrapped in warmth and comfort and an undeniable sense that he’d found where he belonged.   
  
Finally.   
  


***


	14. Chapter 14

There was an incessant noise in his periphery. And an incessant irritation prodding at his backstrut, between his wing hinges.   
  
Starscream groaned in protest and blindly swatted at whatever was being irritating. Or at least, he tried to. But his hands were pinned under something heavy and warm, and his systems registered the trickle of another mech’s datastream.   
  
What?   
  
He surfaced from recharge as if he had to claw his way free, sensors slowly booting up, just enough to remind him of the irritation.   
  
“Go away,” Starscream muttered, because honestly, there was only one mech who could be this aggravating.   
  
“No.” Deadlock sounded highly amused. “You two look really cute like that and all, but you’re going to get stuck together if you don’t get up.”   
  
“That’s impossible,” Starscream retorted and forced his optics to online as short-term memory pinged him a helpful reminder.   
  
Rodimus. Data-facing. Recharge.   
  
Oh. Right.   
  
Starscream cycled his optics as he leaned up, having to unwind his arms from where they’d been wrapped around Rodimus’ chassis. He’d fully blanketed the Firebrand with his own frame, and well, Rodimus must have not minded, because his arms were wrapped around Starscream’s chassis, too.   
  
They were still connected at their arrays, and yes, there was a mess – sticky and dried – between them. They wouldn’t get ‘stuck together’ as Deadlock so elegantly put it, but it would require another scrub.   
  
“Maybe. But it would be hilarious.” Deadlock poked him in the wing hinge again.   
  
“Stop that!” Starscream hissed. He flicked his wing away, but unfortunately, not out of reach. “Why are you even in here anyway?”   
  
“Just doing my duty. Checking up on you. Making sure the Firebrand here was behaving.” Starscream could practically see Deadlock’s toothy smirk, even though he wasn’t looking at him. “There was a flock of drones outside your room, too. Nosy little buggers.”   
  
“Led by Scuttle probably,” Starscream muttered with a snort. The newest drone was so attached to Rodimus, that it bordered on ridiculous.   
  
Speaking of Rodimus however…   
  
The Firebrand was still in recharge. Deep recharge. How he could manage that with so much noise, Starscream had no idea. He didn’t even stir as Starscream eased his weight off Rodimus’ frame and to the side, cables drawing taut between them.   
  
“He’s fine. You’re the one being irritating right now,” Starscream said with a huff. His field flicked out, poking Deadlock with rebuke, though he wasn’t sure why he bothered.   
  
“Awww, I’ve been replaced in your spark already? That was quick.”   
  
Starscream rolled his optics and didn’t dignify that with a retort. Instead, he set about gently disconnecting himself and Rodimus, despite how much he’d been enjoying the shallow link. That Rodimus would so freely offer it made Starscream’s spark twirl with unexpected delight.   
  
Rodimus stirred the moment Starscream eased his connector free. A sharp in-vent and a tiny engine rev announced him coming to sentience before his optics unshuttered.   
  
“Hm?”   
  
“Good morning.” Starscream’s lips curved in a small smile as he spooled his cable back into his array. He gave a tiny pat to Rodimus’ port. “Retract your cable, Firebrand. You’re tempting enough as it is.”   
  
Blue optics flickered before brightening. “Tempting?” Rodimus repeated, vocals still layered in static as though he wasn’t quite aware yet. “So you think I’m pretty?” His arms lifted above his head in a full-frame stretch that called to Starscream’s gaze.   
  
Behind them, Deadlock snickered. “Oh, Primus. You two are adorable.”  
  
Rodimus’ optics flashed, and he abruptly sat up, only to hiss and clutch at his head. “Ow, why do I feel like I got overcharged last night?”   
  
“Because you did. In a way. It’ll pass.” Starscream patted him on the chassis, and told himself not to let his hand wander. Even though all he wanted to do was push Rodimus back into the berth and kiss him senseless.   
  
“You’ll get used to it,” Deadlock offered.   
  
Rodimus squinted and looked past Starscream. “Why are you here?” His armor ruffled and his field burst out, as though physically trying to shove Deadlock from the room. His indignation was ridiculously adorable.   
  
Starscream wisely did not say so aloud.   
  
“Just checking in,” Deadlock purred, his optics going half-shuttered in a show of lechery. Of the two, Starscream didn’t know which was the bigger brat. Honestly.   
  
“Well, Starscream’s obviously fine, so you can leave now,” Rodimus muttered, his lips forming a pout that had no business being so cute. He actually had the courage to flick his hands in dismissal.   
  
Starscream managed to muffle his snicker before Rodimus caught it, but the amusement in his field slipped free. Hopefully, only Deadlock picked up on it.   
  
Deadlock shifted his weight, projecting an aura of menace. “Make me.” Peripherally, Starscream caught him baring his denta as he folded his arms over his chestplate.   
  
They’d be friends someday. Starscream was sure of it. Deadlock had a way of getting under your plating, no matter how irritating he could be, and Rodimus had already proven to have the same talent.   
  
“As cute as I find your jealousy, it’s unnecessary,” Starscream said as he shifted closer to Rodimus, who had finally retracted his cable and closed the panel to his array. “And you, stop goading him,” he threw over his shoulder.   
  
“But it’s so much fun!”   
  
Rodimus tossed Deadlock a glare.   
  
Starscream intercepted Rodimus’ attention, sliding his hand up Rodimus’ chassis, between his headlights. “You didn’t tell me good morning,” he murmured as Rodimus’ optics slid back toward him.   
  
“Sorry,” Rodimus said with a sheepish duck of his head. His glossa swept over his lips as he leaned closer. “Make it up to you with a kiss?”   
  
“That’s acceptable.”   
  
Starscream closed the distance between them, letting their mouths come together in a warm, slow kiss. Rodimus curled an arm around Starscream’s chassis, tugging him closer, deepening the kiss with a sweep of his glossa. His field rose up, surrounding Starscream in a secondary embrace, one thick and heavy with affection.   
  
“Mm, that’ll do,” Starscream said as he pulled back, pressing his forehead to Rodimus’.   
  
Rodimus chuckled quietly. “Good morning, Starscream.”   
  
“Ah, young love,” Deadlock drawled and then made several purging noises. “Okay, I’m out. Star, there’s a tray of coolant and energon for you and the kid here. Don’t forget what I asked!”   
  
“I already did, aft,” Starscream retorted as he drew back from Rodimus and rolled his optics. “But thanks for the refreshments.”   
  
The door opened, and a flood of obnoxious, beeping noises became audible. Deadlock planted himself in the doorway and stooped, lifting something from the floor.   
  
“Oh, by the way, this little guy’s been waiting all night,” he said as he turned and abruptly tossed something in their direction.   
  
Starscream’s optics widened, but it was Rodimus who all but launched himself from the berth, snatched the flying object out of the air, and tucked himself into a roll as he landed, coming out of it on his feet. Starscream’s optics widened in surprise and approval. The Firebrand was not as unskilled as he claimed.   
  
“Why would you do that?” Rodimus demanded, his spoiler flicking up as he cuddled one of the drones against his chestplate.   
  
Deadlock arched an orbital ridge. “I have better aim than you think. He would’ve landed on the bed.”   
  
The drone in Rodimus’ arms honked aggressively, its wheels spinning so fast that they whirred. If it could speak Cybertronian, Starscream imagined it would be cursing.   
  
“That’s not the point!” Rodimus snapped.   
  
Deadlock just grinned, denta sharp and menacing. “It’s exactly the point.” He winked and wriggled his fingers. “Later!”   
  
The door slid shut behind him, cutting off the other drones from entering. Which meant that Rodimus probably held Scuttle.   
  
“He’s such an aft,” Rodimus muttered as he turned back toward Starscream, fingers gently stroking over the drone’s back.   
  
One glance and Starscream knew that it was Scuttle indeed. “He’s testing you,” he observed.   
  
“By throwing a drone?”   
  
“It was barely a toss, and Scuttle would’ve landed on the berth just fine.” Starscream waved off Rodimus’ concern. “I would have caught him.”   
  
Rodimus’ lips drew into a pout. “That’s not the point.” Scuttle beeped and wriggled as if agreeing with him, several long trills coming from its frame like it was complaining to Rodimus.   
  
“Don’t let him fool you. He’s just as attached to the drones, though he hides it better.” Starscream shrugged and shifted on the berth, patting the empty space beside him. “Come on. Put Scuttle out and join me.”   
  
Rodimus looked up and grinned. “Put him out, hm?” The grin turned lascivious. “Did you have something in mind?”  
  
Starscream rolled his optics. “Don’t you start, too.”   
  
Rodimus chuckled and obeyed, though Scuttle protested the entire time. Starscream watched as the drone beeped and honked and tried to run back inside, just as it had last night, before Rodimus quickly shut the door.   
  
“He’s really attached to me,” Rodimus said as he came back to the berth, sliding in next to Starscream with a purr of his engine.   
  
“I’ve noticed,” Starscream replied dryly. He peered at the table where Deadlock had left the tray.   
  
He’d been kind enough to share his stock of grounder-grade coolant with Rodimus, and he’d pulled the treats Starscream had been saving out of the storage bin. There was also a cube of mid-grade and a container of flight-grade coolant for Starscream. It was almost enough to earn Starscream’s forgiveness.   
  
Almost.   
  
“Does that upset you?” Rodimus asked.   
  
Starscream leaned over and snagged the tray, dragging it over to the berth between he and Rodimus. There was nothing wrong with spending the day lounging around in the berth with a cute partner, was there? Besides, it would be a good buffer for what was sure to be a tense conversation.   
  
“No,” Starscream answered with a shake of his head. “It would, if you treated him badly, but since you don’t, I’m glad.” He could share one of his drones. So long as it was one.   
  
“I promise to only usurp the one.” Rodimus grinned and peered at the tray. “I love that you still have these by the way,” he said as he picked up one of the treats and popped it into his mouth. “Loses a bit of the flavor after awhile though.”   
  
“Then I suppose you’ll have to make more,” Starscream said and urged the coolant toward the Firebrand. “Drink. I’m sure you need it.”   
  
“Oh, you’re a medic now?”   
  
“The closest we’ve got to one.” Starscream smirked.   
  
Rodimus grinned and obeyed. “Oh, but that does remind me! Wrench gave me a box of stuff for you. It’s in my pack. I guess I have his blessing?” He rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “Can’t ever tell with that old rust-aft.”   
  
“I see his charm hasn’t changed over the years.”   
  
“He has charm?”   
  
Starscream grinned, shoved another treat into his mouth, and sank back into the berth, this time on his back, letting it cradle his wings. He’d save his coolant for later.   
  
Both berth and tray jostled as Rodimus clambered over him, only to cuddle up to his side. “So,” he said as he threw a leg over Starscream’s, his hand sliding along Starscream’s chassis. “What’s next?”   
  
“I’m taking a rest day,” Starscream said. He snagged a pillow and tucked it behind his head, making it easier for him to look at the mech snuggled up next to him. “And we… probably should talk.”   
  
Rodimus stiffened, and his field went still. “Is it a good talk?”   
  
“I’m not throwing you out, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just want to make sure we are on the same page, so to speak,” Starscream murmured. He slid an arm around Rodimus’ chassis, his fingers stroking Rodimus’ spinal strut.   
  
The Firebrand melted against him. “Oh. That makes sense.” He audibly cycled a ventilation. “What do you want to know?”   
  
Starscream braced himself. “Are you sure this is what you want?”   
  
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” Rodimus’ head pillowed on Starscream’s shoulder, his fingers played over Starscream’s belly. “And it’s not because you’re a second choice or whatever. Yeah, I didn’t get my brand, and yeah, I had this whole unrequited love thing going on, but coming to terms with both of those is why I came here.”   
  
Starscream frowned. Unrequited love? He suspected that had something to do with Sunstreaker, and perhaps Sideswipe to a lesser extent. Rodimus had mentioned them enough.   
  
“I see.”   
  
“I’m not sure you do.” Rodimus sighed a ventilation and shifted a little, propping himself on his elbow to look up at Starscream. “It’s like, you think you only have these options, and you think you’re stuck, but then a whole new world opens up to you, and you realize that this is what you’ve been looking for. And you feel stupid-lucky that you found it.”   
  
Starscream’s spark stuttered. He worked his intake. “It was a curious turn of fate that brought you here,” he managed to get out through the static trying to glitch his vocalizer.   
  
“Fate. Luck. Coincidence. Something like that.” Rodimus shrugged and snuggled into Starscream’s side again. “Whatever it was, I’m just glad for it.” His field nudged against Starscream’s, the edges of it trying to knit with Starscream’s own.   
  
Starscream stroked Rodimus’ back gently. “Thank you,” he murmured. “And I apologize for doubting you.”   
  
“I’m getting the feeling you have your reasons. You don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to though.” Rodimus’ voice was soft and sincere. His ex-vents tickled against Starscream’s intake.   
  
He should at least tell Rodimus something.   
  
Starscream nibbled on his bottom lip. “Someday I will,” he finally allowed. There were too many raw wounds to open himself entirely to Rodimus just yet. “And for what it’s worth, you are welcome here as long as you want to stay.”   
  
“Then I suppose I’m staying forever.” He felt more than saw Rodimus’ grin. “Besides, what would Scuttle do without me?”   
  
Starscream chuckled. “A fair question.” He blindly groped for one of the treats and offered it to Rodimus, who nipped playfully at his fingertips before accepting it.   
  
“So we just… take it one day at a time then?” Rodimus suggested as he traced Starscream’s seams over and over, the touch too light to be arousing, and just shy of being ticklish. “Get to know each other for real. And I guess put up with Deadlock, too.”   
  
Starscream chuckled. “You’ll get used to him.” He curled his arm, stroking his fingers down Rodimus’ backstrut, between his spoiler. “I’m glad you came back.”   
  
“So am I.” Rodmus shifted and pulled himself up, their faces inches apart, and his optics bright and earnest. “It’s the best decision I ever made.”   
  
Another kiss was inevitable, and probably the third and fourth, too. Starscream sighed as Rodimus’ mouth covered his, and his frame, as the heat and affection of the Firebrand surrounded him. It was almost too easy to fall under Rodimus’ sway, to let inexperienced but curious fingers track over his frame, exploring where he’d yet to investigate. Easier, still, to turn his fingers toward Rodimus, tracing seams and kibble still unfamiliar to him.   
  
“Mmmm.” Rodimus hummed into the kiss, heat wafting from his frame to tease against Starscream’s own. “Wait, wait. Before we get started.” He pulled back, licking his lips. “I’ve got something for you.”   
  
Starscream chuckled and leaned in for another kiss, only for Rodimus to lean back with a determined moue of his lips. “Really? Right now?”   
  
“I don’t want to forget again.” Yet, Rodimus’ fingers were no less busy, teasing Starscream’s seams, his frame rocking against Starscream’s as though his processor was of two minds about it.   
  
“Fine,” Starscream grumbled. “If you feel you must. But don’t be surprised if I’m asleep when you get back.”   
  
Rodimus laughed and brushed his lips over Starscream’s. “I’ll just have to find some way to wake you up then.” He nuzzled their noses before he climbed over Starscream and out of the berth. “Be back soon.”   
  
Rodimus left, and Starscream’s berth was instantly colder without him. But the promise of returning sent a flush of warmth through his lines.   
  
Starscream snuggled into the berth, ignoring the tacky, stickiness of his frame and listening to the quiet flutters of his spark. Rodimus had come back to him. For him. He almost couldn’t believe it.   
  
He had no idea what tomorrow or next week or next year would bring. But he was determined to find out, to embrace this opportunity. He didn’t want to lose Rodimus, not as he had so many other things.   
  
He wanted Rodimus to be his.   
  
And he thanked Primus that it seemed Rodimus wanted the same thing.   
  


~

  
  
Rodimus slipped out of Starscream’s room and almost tripped over Scuttle, who immediately zoomed into his left foot. He chuckled and crouched to pat the drone on the top of his frame.   
  
“Yes, you missed me. I get it,” he said. “And I’m not leaving again if I can help it. Promise.”   
  
Scuttle beeped and nudged against his fingers as if to say ‘you’d better’ before he twirled away and around Rodimus in uneven circles. Rodimus laughed again and rose back to his feet.   
  
The tower was eerily quiet. He could hear other drones moving around, in their various stations, but of Deadlock, there was no sign. Rodimus didn’t really know what room was Deadlock’s, or where the other mech could be. Frankly, he’d rather avoid Deadlock for awhile longer yet.  
  
He headed downstairs, where he’d left his pack, only to find it wasn’t there anymore. Had Starscream moved it? Probably up to his room then. But first…  
  
Rodimus retrieved a damp rag from the washroom on the lowest floor. They could do an in-depth cleaning later, but it would be a nice gesture to wipe Starscream down. Plus, it would give him an excuse to put his hands all over Starscream’s frame. Not that he needed the excuse.   
  
Rodimus grinned and took the lift all the way back to the level which held the room he’d used the last time he was here. He didn’t know if he and Starscream were going to share from now on or not, but it was probably a good idea for him to have his own space nonetheless. They were still all but strangers.   
  
That would change with time, but until then, a little privacy wasn’t unexpected. Living together would be difficult enough.   
  
His pack was indeed here, sitting in a dusty pile by the end of the berth. Scuttle squeaked in outrage and ran toward the bag, bumping into it and sending a puff of dust into the air.   
  
“Yes, I know. It’s dirty.” Rodimus rolled his optics and crouched over the bag, digging through the contents, which had left it stuffed nearly to the top.   
  
Between his supplies, Wrench’s gift, Sideswipe’s gift, and Sunstreaker’s gift, there was hardly any room left. The item he’d brought for Starscream specifically had shifted to the bottom of the pack, and Rodimus had a moment of panic that it had been broken. Relief whooshed out of his vents, however, when he pulled it free and it was unharmed.   
  
Thank Primus.   
  
He rose to his feet and nudged the bag shut with the tip of his foot. He pushed it under the berth in a clump of grit, which Scuttle berated noisily. Silly thing.   
  
Rodimus chuckled, hefted the item, and turned around, only to startle and nearly drop his gifts. Deadlock was standing there, leaning against the wall by the doorway, his arms crossed over his chassis. Rodimus had neither heard the door open or Deadlock’s footsteps!  
  
Rodimus’ spark nearly leapt into his intake. “What the frag!” he snapped. “How long have you--”  
  
“We should talk,” Deadlock cut in with a tone far too mild for the expression on his face. It was a smile, but only in the faintest definition of the term. “Don’t you think?”   
  
Rodimus narrowed his optics and clutched his armful defensively. “Is this the part where you threaten me?”   
  
Deadlock waved a dismissive hand and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if to highlight all of the empty scabbards on his frame. “Threatening you is redundant at this point. I think you already know what I’ll do if you’re here to hurt him.”   
  
“I’m not,” Rodimus snapped as Scuttle made a low, confused sound and huddled against his right foot. “Not that it’s any of your business.” His armor flared and flattened around his frame defensively.   
  
A chuckle rolled out of Deadlock’s frame. His denta – his pointed denta, dear Primus – glinted in the overhead light. “You’ve got bolts, I’ll give you that much.” He tilted his head, leaning harder against the wall. “But my Star’s not a toy. If you’re just here to play, you’ll find out who really earned the title ‘Deathbringer’ around these parts. Got me?”   
  
“I don’t have to prove myself to you,” Rodimus said hotly, his spoiler going high and rigid as his spark pounded in his chassis. Menace coiled from Deadlock’s frame, and Rodimus was probably very outclassed.   
  
But he wasn’t going to bow down and give in either. That wasn’t in his nature. He’d never yielded without a fight.   
  
“The only person who’s opinion matters to me here is Starscream’s,” Rodimus added as he directed a glare at Deadlock. “He’s who I came back for and he’s why I’m staying. I don’t care if you or anyone else doesn’t like it. As long as he wants me here, I’m not leaving.”   
  
Deadlock’s smile grew broader. He pushed off the doors, hands sliding down from their fold, every inch of him screaming danger. “Is that so?”   
  
Rodimus tossed his head and stood his ground. He’d trained with Springer and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. He wasn’t afraid of Deadlock. The aft had nothing on a furious Sunstreaker who thought he’d been slighted.   
  
“It is,” Rodimus said.   
  
“Hmm.” Deadlock circled him, like a predator might stare down its prey. “You sure? He can be an aft sometimes. He whines when he doesn’t get his way, and he’s got a sharp glossa. I know for a fact he built the drones because he can’t clean up after himself, and he’s got more baggage than a cargo hold. Still sound like someone you wanna take home to your clan?”   
  
Rodimus’ optics narrowed in suspicion as he turned with Deadlock, unwilling to give the other mech his back.   
  
“Yes. I plan on claiming him as soon as he’ll let me,” Rodimus replied, getting a sense now that he was being evaluated and judged. A feeling he didn’t like one bit.   
  
His only consolation was that Starscream was going to go through the very same thing as soon as he met Sunstreaker.   
  
Deadlock laughed, and at least it didn’t sound mocking. “That’s all I wanted to hear, Firebrand,” he said, and clapped a hand on Rodimus’ shoulder with more force than was necessary. “So long as we understand each other.”   
  
Rodimus shrugged out from under Deadlock’s hand and twisted toward the door. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Deadlock alone in here, with his pack open and all too inviting, but he disliked being cornered even less.   
  
“You’re an aft,” he said.   
  
Deadlock grinned, wider and sharper. “So I’ve heard. But an aft that protects the things he cares about, so you better be genuine, kid.”   
  
“I’m not a kid either!” Rodimus growled, tightening his grip on the items in his arms. Scuttle twirled around his feet, nearly causing him to trip. “Just back off and mind your own business.”   
  
“Primus, you’re perfect for each other.” Deadlock’s chuckles grated on Rodimus’ patience. But he flicked a hand in Rodimus’ direction. “Go on then. Before Star hollers for you.”   
  
Rodimus glared. “I don’t need your permission,” he spat before he whirled on a heel and stormed out from the room. Scuttle honked in Deadlock’s direction and spun out after Rodimus with a whine of his tires.   
  
Deadlock’s laughter followed him out. Rodimus twitched and forced himself to cycle several ventilations. He knew an assessment when he saw one, and Deadlock was definitely sussing him out. Rodimus didn’t blame him, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.   
  
He returned to Starscream’s room, pleased when it opened for him automatically, and shooed Scuttle out when he tried to follow Rodimus inside. It broke his spark a little to hear Scuttle’s beep of complaint, but he’d make it up to the drone later.   
  
“About time you got back,” Starscream murmured sleepily. He was stretched across the berth, all inviting, and the tray of goodies had been emptied.   
  
Rodimus would just have to make more, he supposed.   
  
“I was waylaid by Deadlock,” Rodimus replied as he dropped Wrench’s box onto a nearby table and kept the item he’d brought. He joined Starscream on the berth. “He’s really protective of you.”   
  
“Mm. The feeling is mutual.” Starscream rolled toward him and offered the sleepiest grin, one that made Rodimus’ spark flutter. “What did you bring me?”   
  
Now that he was here, Rodimus felt foolish for making such a big deal out of it. Heat filled his face as he perched on the edge of the berth, and Starscream pulled himself upright.   
  
“It’s nothing special,” Rodimus said as he scrubbed the back of his neck with one hand and offered the item with the other. “It’s just, I was thinking about you while I was gone and I made this. And it’s kind of a clan-tradition, that if something is inspired by another person, it’s meant to be a gift. So it’s yours.”   
  
He handed it over, this larger and more detailed carving of Starscream, of what he thought Starscream’s alt-mode might look like based on what he’d been told of Seekers and the kibble on Starscream’s frame. He didn’t know how accurate it was. He’d just been thinking of Starscream and let his fingers do the shaping.   
  
Starscream’s optics brightened as he accepted the carving. He turned it over and over in his hands, his long fingers carefully tracing the shapes and edges Rodimus had worked into it.   
  
“It’s not much,” Rodimus repeated, embarrassed now that he’d made such a point to go get it. In anyone else’s hands, the carving would have been a thing of beauty. But Rodimus’ lack of talent showed all too well, in the uneven sanding, the hesitant lines, the disproportionate wings, and the lack of overall symmetry.   
  
“It’s lovely,” Starscream murmured with appreciation in his voice, and it didn’t even sound false. “I found the others, you know. The ones you left behind. They have pride of place on my desk.”   
  
The heat in Rodimus’ cheeks sent sparks up into his finials. “Really?”   
  
“Indeed.” Starscream looked up at him with a soft, sincere smile. “Don’t underestimate the value of something that’s a gift. It means more than you can know. Thank you.”   
  
Rodimus scooted closer, his spark hammering faster in his chassis. “You’re welcome.” He brushed his arm against Starscream’s, felt the heat of Starscream’s plating against his. “I’m, um, I’m really glad you decided to give us a chance.”   
  
“Of course I did.” Starscream cycled a ventilation, his hands tightening around the carving. “I have been… lonelier than I cared to admit. And I’ve spent the last weeks alternating between being angry at myself for driving you away, and convincing myself it was the best thing to do, because you’d only leave anyway.”   
  
Rodimus’ own ventilations caught in his intake. He held himself still, as if moving would shatter the moment, and the obvious vulnerability Starscream allowed him to see.   
  
Starscream looked down at the carving, his optics softening. “I never imagined that you’d return on your own, or that I’d be so happy to see you. It took me by surprise, I’ll admit.” His thumbs swept over the wings of the carving. “I want you to stay, not that I’ll force you to do so, but know that, if it were up to me alone, you’d never leave.”   
  
“Then I don’t want to,” Rodimus blurted out, because the mix of sadness and happiness in Starscream’s field made his spark ache. He put his hand over Starscream’s, squeezing gently. “Leave, I mean. I came back because I realized this is the only place I want to be.”   
  
Starscream turned toward him, free hand cupping Rodimus’ face as he suddenly pulled Rodimus into a kiss, sweeter than all the ones he’d given before. His field swirled against Rodimus’, warm and affectionate and hopeful. It opened to Rodimus, where Starscream had been hesitant and closed before.   
  
Starscream drew back from the kiss, chaste in comparison, but it left Rodimus warm and tingling. “Thank you,” he murmured.   
  
The heat in Rodimus’ cheeks returned. “For what?”   
  
Starscream leaned his forehead against Rodimus’. “For saving me. In more ways than just the coding.” He brushed his thumb over Rodimus’ cheek before he eased back, leaning away to set the carving on the nearby end table. “Now. I do believe we were in the middle of something earlier.”   
  
Rodimus grinned. “Yes, we were.”   
  
There was opportunity here. Starscream was distracted by reclaiming his balance, and so Rodimus pounced, knocking him back to the berth. He ended up perched on top of Starscream’s hips, the Seeker splayed out beneath him, optics wide and a smile curving his lips.   
  
“Oh, no. It seems you’ve caught me,” Starscream said with an arched orbital ridge and nothing of surrender in his expression. His glossa flicked over his lips as he rolled his frame beneath Rodimus. “Whatever are you going to do now?”   
  
Rodimus laughed and leaned over the Seeker, brushing the tips of their noses together. “First, I think I’ll kiss you,” he said. “And then I think I’ll touch you. Since I’ve got a lot to learn and all, I’d like to get started now.”   
  
Long-fingered hands settled on his hips, holding them gently. “We have all the time in the world,” Starscream murmured.   
  
“I know. But I feel like I’ve been waiting too long already.” Rodimus almost felt stupid for such romantic words, but when Starscream’s face lit up with delight, regret was the last thing on his processor.   
  
Kissing Starscream saved him from saying anything else. As did pressing their lips together, the edges of their fields knitting and forming a single, united rhythm. Heat filled the air between them, desire and longing pulsing in tandem in his spark.   
  
Nothing had ever felt so right until this moment. He’d never been so happy. He felt like he’d finally found where he belonged.   
  
Here. In the middle of the Barrens. With the Deathbringer and his army of cleaning drones, in his tower of wonders with the greatest of them all, the Seeker himself.   
  
This, Rodimus decided, was home.   
  


****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that’s the end of Trial by Fire, but fear not, my friends! I currently have more plans for this universe. Two full-length fics, called Trial By Sword and Trial By Stone, and a shorter one-off that’s Sunstreaker’s POV, sort of covering the time when Rodimus went missing. I have lots and lots of plans still. ;)
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has read and commented. I appreciate it so much! I know this is a little different than the usual take on the trope and I appreciate that you gave it a chance anyway. See you in the next fic!


End file.
